


Everyone's Killing Reality

by khattikeri



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mystery, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2020-11-22 17:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 53
Words: 281,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20878256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khattikeri/pseuds/khattikeri
Summary: He screamed, falling to the floor.“AAAGH--”no, no, nothis can’t be happeningwe have to escapeDON’T BREATHE--And then Saihara returned, panting and sweating and clutching his head in pain.“What,” he breathed, “wasthat?”=Or: Everyone in the killing game gets serious headaches whenever confronted with something related to their missing memories. Can Saihara piece together their pasts and end the killing game before it claims them all?





	1. Prologue: Here We Go Again

**Author's Note:**

> I believe in happy endings.
> 
> When I finished V3 back in January, I was so mad at the ending that I was instantly thinking of all the things I would've liked to have happened instead, and then proceeded to write them down. Thus this AU was born. It ended up getting expanded beyond anything I'd originally anticipated, and now it's just a huge passion project that I've put a lot of love into. I've come to terms a bit more with the canon V3 ending since then, but my feelings really haven't changed a lot. 
> 
> This isn't necessarily my "ideal" version of V3, but it's still a version that I've come to love after writing it for so long. It's been months, but I'm excited to post this fic, and I hope you all enjoy it too.

Amami Rantaro woke up remembering he’d been drugged.

...How much time had passed since then? 

Blearily blinking his eyes open, he sat up. His clothes were sweaty and disheveled; he recalled putting up somewhat of a fight before being forced into unconsciousness. His head hurt quite a bit, also likely because of the drug. The room around him was dark and windowless, so it took some time for his vision to adjust. 

Then he saw the blue lights.

They moved slowly along thin lines, culminating in one spot, a cruel web of showmanship. And instantly, he understood what was happening.

“No,” he whispered in horror, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no, no…”

A terribly cutesy, familiar voice pierced through his thoughts. “Welcome back, Amami. Are you ready for your next killing game?”

(Was that godforsaken bear actually in the room right now, or all in his imagination?)

“Y’know, I still don’t know how you survived,” Amami laughed, ignoring the question. Funny, how laughter came easiest when you were scared shitless.

Monokuma’s face morphed, irritation clear on his face as he held up a clawed paw. “Yeah, thanks for that! Taking apart your precious headmaster and crushing them should be against the rules.” He smiled. “Luckily, I doubt that Shirogane there is gonna include that in her new set.”

(That made him feel just as irritated as he used to get whenever Monokuma would rag him on his missing little sisters in the previous game.)

Amami’s face hardened at the mention of her name. “You completely altered her brain,” he grit out. “You--”

“You should know by now that every killing game needs a mastermind, Amami,” Monokuma said innocently. “And who better than the sweet, plain nerdy girl everyone looks past?”

Amami ignored the tightening pain in his throat. “Trying to force this much despair into our lives… This is essentially torture, y’know,” he said. 

(Not like the bear would care. He knew that.)

“Torture for her, or for you? You two were such good pseudo-siblings last time, my despairing heart almost got a kick out of it!” Monokuma snickered. “Upupu… Having her do the masterminding will _definitely_ be more entertaining this time!”

(What sort of twisted divine retribution was this? Was it really his fault for trying to escape?)

“I won’t let you,” Amami swore. “I won’t let you use her to promote your shitty despairing death games when this was all _my_ mistake.”

“Good luck with that!” the bear grinned. “Whether it’s your fault or not, the research we get out of this is undeniably important.”

(What was the truth? Was the bear really here or not?)

“Next thing on the to-do list,” Monokuma inched closer. (Real? Fake? Truth? Lies? A dream? Should he even dare to hope?) “I need you to record something.”

Amami narrowed his gaze. “Record... something...?”

“Think of it as a message to yourself in the killing game. You can give yourself clues and other encouragement, but no direct information-- like the rules I imposed on you last time, only I’m trying something new with the video this time around.”

So he recorded. (Because really, after everything he’d been through, he knew he didn’t have a chance of escaping this bear and its puppetmasters.)

“That’s a good boy,” Monokuma crooned as he uploaded the video onto a USB; Amami winced. “This will go into your lab… Now, then, don’t you think it’s about time you joined the others?” Monokuma smiled. “The killing game can’t start until aaaaall sixteen of you are there…”

Even though he knew it was inevitable, Amami’s eyes widened in fear-- and the second he realized how he was reacting, he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed and cried, near hysteric. “You can’t do this to me again,” he croaked, tears blurring his vision. “You can’t make me watch people die and kill each other again, you can’t do this to her and to all of them--”

“I already have, though!” Monokuma cackled gleefully. “You know the deal-- none of them will remember a thing. Their memories are already gone-- well, one of them should remember the way you do. Technically, anyway.”

Amami’s mind raced. _Who remembered? _Shirogane, right? ‘Technically’? Does that mean that the others had already been--

“One last thing,” Monokuma interrupted his thoughts. “You aren’t allowed to talk about anything you may remember, or I will kill everyone else on the spot and you’ll be left all alone again. Capisce?”

Amami opened his mouth to respond; Monokuma grinned and continued without bothering to hear it. “Savor your memories while you can, Amami! They’re going to disappear soon.” He paused, relishing in Amami’s terror. “Or are they?”

The bear pounced. 

(Or did it really?)

(Was it his imagination? A fallacy?)

(What was the truth? What was the lie?)

(...Did it even matter?)

Everything turned black.

=

Saihara Shuichi woke up in a locker with nothing. 

No light, no sound, no form, no voice. No knowledge of who he was. Absolutely nothing but confusion and slight fear and zero clue what the hell was going on.

He tumbled out and met a kind girl named Akamatsu Kaede, and together they explored the strange abandoned building they were in, all the while chatting about why they were both feeling such strange headaches. Was it… could it have been kidnappers? Or the mafia? That had to be it, right? They didn’t remember anything like being shoved into a vehicle, or tied up or gagged.

The building they were in seemed rather familiar… But Saihara opted to stop thinking about that, because every time he wondered why, his headache got worse. 

They finally found thirteen other people in the gym. 

“Oh, two more people!” A voice called out. It came from the boy with a red shirt underneath his school uniform jacket. 

“Is that all of us...?” a hesitant voice came from the short, purple-haired boy.

The blonde girl with a slightly mussed up uniform responded. “Fifteen seems kinda even, so maybe…”

The tan girl spoke up. “But why would fifteen high schoolers be gathered here like this…?”

Saihara and Akamatsu introduced themselves first and then started asking questions-- but none of the others knew what was going on, either. All fifteen of them remembered absolutely nothing, but strangely enough, all of them were getting the same headaches.

A green-haired boy walked in. Everyone turned to look at him, then clamored._ Another new person._

Rather than talk, Saihara preferred to observe. The boy’s hair was curly and he had several piercings; his uniform consisted of a white button-up, a tie, and a dark pullover underneath his uniform jacket, which he appeared to personalize by rolling the sleeves to his elbows. A normal schoolboy through and through.

But was he really normal? The boy had been staring at them for a while now. His eyes flitted over the group, and ever so slightly, his lips had been moving, as though he was counting something.

“And that makes sixteen…” he whispered. The boy bit his lip, then moved forward, smiling. “Sorry I’m late, I think…? My name is Amami Rantaro.”

The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Akamatsu smiled back. “I’m Akamatsu Kaede. Do you know who we are, Amami-kun? Or why we’re here?”

Amami frowned and shook his head; Saihara’s eyes narrowed under the hat. _Something’s up._

“By any chance…” Amami licked his lips; Saihara stared. He’s anticipating something. Worried? Or testing something out? 

“...Does the term ‘Ultimate Hunt’ ring a bell for anyone here?”

Before anyone else could answer, five gigantic leviathan-esque robotic weapons moved towards them, threatening to kill them.

And from within them, five colorful bears immediately came out.

=

Five?

_Five? _

Why were there five rainbow-Skittle themed bears now? _Monokubs?_ And what were these eldritch Exisal things that they’d come from?

Where the_ fuck_ was Monokuma?

A singsong-y, irritating voice in Amami’s head reminded him that Monokuma _did_ say he was trying some new things this time around, but_ jeez,_ what an understatement.

But either way… this confirmed it. If he said anything more than this, the others would definitely be killed by the Monokubs in these machines. His heart sank with the knowledge that a new killing game would start all over again, and sank further down when he realized with a start that his memories were completely intact.

“This is exactly what I thought it was,” Amami began, making sure his voice was loud and clear. "It's--"

Shirogane's eyes widened.

And then, inexplicably, everything turned black again.

=

Saihara Shuichi woke up in the locker again, with nothing but a _very_ big headache.

For some reason, even though Saihara remembered being a detective-- the Ultimate Detective-- he didn’t feel any less at unease. The locker he was in was closed shut; he rattled it from the inside, trying to get out.

Suddenly, the door opened, and he tumbled out, faceplanting on the floor.

That was how he met the first of sixteen people: Akamatsu Kaede, the Ultimate Pianist. Upon seeing her face, he screamed. Akamatsu was startled enough that she screamed back, then looked irritated when she realized what she was doing. “Don’t scream at me, I’m not a monster, sheesh!”

“Ah, sorry…”

She was kind, and just as bewildered as he was, so Saihara got the feeling that they’d be able to get along. He looked around at his surroundings: a classroom, but it looked abandoned. There were spikes on the windows; certainly this meant that they were trapped, unable to leave. The classroom looked rather futuristic as well, with electronic boards contributing to the foreign ambiance.

Where _was_ this?

“I’m Akamatsu Kaede,” Akamatsu introduced herself with a smile, “Ultimate Pianist. And you are--?”

“Rise and shine, ursine!” five robotic voices clamored cheerily.

Akamatsu screamed. Saihara only tilted his head, by now mentally invested in investigating their surroundings. “Teddy bears…?”

Akamatsu turned at him with a sour expression. “This is one of those moments where you _should_ scream!”

Saihara flushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, sorry.” Akamatsu looked at him curiously; Saihara wanted to shrink. 

“WE SAID RISE AND SHINE, URSINE!” the bears repeated, irritated upon being ignored. Saihara wrinkled his nose.

“Who are you?” he cut to the chase. “And where are we?”

The bears introduced themselves one by one. Monotaro, Monosuke, Monokid, Monophanie, and Monodam. Red, Yellow, Blue, Pink, Green. The Monokubs.They were eccentric and weird and Saihara instinctively hated them the instant they spoke, but at the very least, he could remember their names.

(But why did his memory feel like there were gaps in them?)

“Alright, robo-bears, what about the answer to the _other _question that--” Akamatsu looked at him expectantly. Saihara blinked in confusion, then realized she was waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Saihara,” he said, cheeks growing hot against his will. “Saihara… um… Shuichi. Ultimate Detective.”

“--that Saihara-kun asked?”

“Right now all of you are in the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles!” Monotaro proclaimed. _Definitely the leader of the group, _Saihara decided._ Aside from red always being the leader’s color, he’s the most talkative..._

“That answers none of our questions,” Akamatsu huffed in frustration. 

_Cute,_ Saihara thought, then his brain immediately went to scramble the thought.

“Well, then, kiddo,” Monosuke replied, “Go investigate! Don’t keep everyone waiting!”

Saihara perked up at the word. “He’s right,” he said. “Besides, since he said _‘all of you’_ are in this academy place, that means there’s more of us here.”

Akamatsu’s mouth widened in an ‘o’ shape of understanding; then, she beamed at him. “Nice catch, Saihara-kun! I didn’t even notice that!”

Saihara was already in thinking mode. “Let’s go, then?” he asked awkwardly, ignoring the bears yelling at Monotaro for giving away the fact that there were more people than just Saihara and Akamatsu in the building. Akamatsu nodded.

Thus started their adventure in exploring the Ultimate Academy.

=

Why the hell couldn’t Amami find the person who supposedly remembered everything the way he did?

Monokuma wasn’t the type of person to lie about these kinds of things-- he was a cryptic piece of shit, sure, but he usually lied by omission, not by false declarations. There had to be _someone_ here who remembered what really happened.

It obviously should’ve been Shirogane, if Amami’s suspicions were right, but Amami couldn’t find her _anywhere _after he woke up in the academy,and it was killing him. Metaphorically, of course. He’d already found quite a few people-- Momota, Chabashira, Gonta, Angie, Toujo, and Hoshi-- but none of them remembered, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the remaining eight people aside from Shirogane wouldn’t remember either.

Amami’s eyes shifted as he pulled out his Monopad._ ‘Survivor Perk Monopad’,_ it had said. For surviving a past killing game. Ha! 

Amami looked at the map of the school and frowned. 

Then, it dawned on him. “Oh, I get it… This school is based off of that old--”

A crashing noise, followed by a familiar high-pitched shriek of _“Akamatsu-san, are you alright?!” _snapped him out of his reverie.

_Saihara-kun and Akamatsu-san._

Maybe Amami ought to go see if they remembered anything.

=

As they walked around the abandoned building, Saihara couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing. The floor plan itself was rather… familiar… 

But no matter how much of a headache it was giving him, he couldn’t remember a thing.

Akamatsu was both pretty and pretty cheerful-- both traits that Saihara himself didn’t have. She was rather optimistic about this whole ordeal, despite being terrified by those bears earlier. 

“And so that’s how I met some random king at one of my recitals,” Akamatsu finished the story. Hardly half an hour had passed since they met, but Akamatsu was already treating Saihara like a fast friend. “But then, you wouldn’t believe-- AAAH!” she tripped over something and fell on her face.

“Akamatsu-san, are you alright?!” Saihara shrieked, immediately kneeling down to help her up.

(He didn’t think about his voice, or the gut-twisting feeling its pitch gave him.)

As Akamatsu brushed herself off, a familiar-looking boy approached them.

“Hey, there,” he said. “You guys alright? I heard noise and got worried, so I came over…”

Saihara gave him a once-over. Curly green hair. Piercings. Long eyelashes. Familiar voice and mannerisms, to the point that it made his headache worse, but he couldn’t pin down what he was forgetting.

To Saihara’s surprise, Akamatsu’s face was screwed up-- almost like she was thinking the same thing. 

“Agh-- sorry, I’m… kinda getting a headache for some reason, just looking at you…”

“So am I,” Saihara said. “That’s… weird…”

Even weirder was the fact that the boy didn’t appear offended by this. Rather, he sighed.

“Everyone’s been getting headaches like this. Nobody remembers anything.”

_Something’s off about him,_ Saihara thought, and his headache pierced him again with that sense of deja vu.

“I’m Amami Rantaro,” the boy introduced himself. “And you guys are?”

=

Ridiculous, really. He already knew who they were. 

This was stupid. This was infuriating and maddening and _stupid._

But if he wanted to avoid dying, he’d have to be patient.

=

“Akamatsu Kaede, Ultimate Pianist,” Akamatsu introduced herself first. She beamed at Saihara.

“Saihara Shuichi,” he grimaced. “Ultimate Detective.”

He was an awkward boy, and his voice was somewhat high, but Akamatsu found him endearing, in a way. He was smart, too-- maybe he’d find a way to get them out from wherever this creepy place was.

The other boy-- Amami-- looked a bit strange, though. Mysterious. He was quiet even after they’d introduced themselves, like he was thinking about something.

“So…” Akamatsu broke the awkward silence. “What’s your Ultimate, Amami-kun?”

Amami looked like he was choking on his own tongue (Beethoven’s _Sonata Pathetique,_ Op. 13, Akamatsu noted to herself-- whenever she got the headaches, she could hear different pieces of music.). He grimaced sheepishly-- did all the boys here do that?

“I don’t remember. My talent, I mean. My memories are really messed up, so all I really remember is my name and some family details.”

=

_AUGH, _Amami thought to himself,_ YOU DISASTER._

What the hell was he supposed to do?! Just say _“oh, yeah, I’m the Ultimate Adventurer, remember me?” _Or worse, admit the whole Ultimate Survivor thing and explain the truth about Monokuma and the killing games that technically hadn’t started yet for all of them?

He’d die if he did that-- Monokuma didn’t pull punches once he dished out a threat-- but Amami had forgotten to come up with a more believable lie.

_Fucking hell… It’s a miracle you even survived the first time, Rantaro._

=

Something’s up, something’s up, something’s up.

This Amami Rantaro person was acting weird as hell. And even more strange, Saihara felt _familiarity _at this weird-as-hell behavior. His headache was getting worse. A migraine? At the very least, it was an indicator of something relating to forgotten memories. He’d figured that much out, based on how much it’d happened within the past-- Saihara glanced at his wristwatch-- half hour or so. 

“Oh,” Akamatsu said. “That’s alright, then! You don’t have to feel bad or awkward about it.”

“Mm,” Amami hummed.

_He’s too mysterious. _Saihara furrowed his brows. 

“Ultimate Hunt,” Amami murmured under his breath, as if testing something.

Saihara’s headache turned _excruciating_. 

He and Akamatsu both let out a yell, suddenly clutching their heads in pain. Saihara barely opened his squinted eyes and was met with the sight of Amami’s glazed over gaze looking down at them.

“I see,” Amami whispered, barely soft enough to hear. 

“You see what?” Akamatsu grit out; Amami blinked. Apparently he hadn’t expected anyone to hear him, not even the musician.

“I just remembered those two words, so they slipped out in my confusion.” He chuckled sheepishly. “My mouth moved on its own… Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you guys get headaches.”

What did he know and what was he hiding?

“I found some of the others, and we all agreed to meet in the gym,” Amami changed the subject. “It’s down that hall,” he pointed, “and to the right. There are bathrooms on the way there.”

“Thanks,” Akamatsu said brightly, “but we’ll explore some other places first and then meet there.”

“No problem,” Amami replied smoothly. “See you whenever you get there.”

The three of them parted ways.

“That was weird,” Akamatsu muttered, standing up and brushing off her knees. Saihara nodded beside her. 

Little did they know that they’d soon find themselves meeting even weirder people.

As they opened the door to another classroom, they were bombarded with distressed beeping noises, childish giggling, and screaming, all of which caused a greater headache.

“STOP CHASING ME,” a robot wailed, running around the room and dodging desks. 

“ANSWER THE QUESTION, BOT,” a lightning-fast blur of purple grinned. His boyish smile was replaced with an incredibly serious look. “Do robots have dicks or not?”

“GROSS, YOU PERVERT!” the robot screeched, flushing (_Robots can do that? _Saihara thought, bewildered.). “THIS IS HARASSMENT! GET AWAY FROM ME!”

The Purple Boy cackled with childish glee and continued tormenting the robot.

“...You think we can just leave and pretend we saw nothing?” Saihara asked Akamatsu. 

Unfortunately for him, the robot noticed them and quickly hid behind the two. _“Help me,” _it hissed. “This-- this terrifying _infant_ is trying to commit some sort of sex crime by invading my privacy--”

“Hey!” the Purple Boy jutted out his lower lip in a pout. “First off, Kiiboy, I’m a teenager. Second of all-- and jot this down-- robots do not have rights. Third of all, it’s just a normal manly talk about penises, who cares--”

“ROBOPHOBIA,” the robot cried, accusatory. Saihara felt his headache get worse, though whether it was because these two were actually part of his missing memories or just plain _annoying_ had yet to be seen.

Akamatsu was apparently feeling the same way, because she took a step closer to the purple boy. “I’m Akamatsu Kaede, Ultimate Pianist.” She jabbed a finger in Saihara’s direction. “He’s Saihara Shuichi, Ultimate Detective. And you are?”

“Getting a headache looking at you two,” Purple Boy replied. “And hearing your voices.” The robot (Kiiboy?) nodded in agreement.

“That as well, but to be more cordial, I am Kiibo, the Ultimate Robot,” the robot declared, proudly placing his hands on his hips. 

_Ah, so ‘Kiiboy’ was a nickname. _

“Nice to meet you, Kiibo,” Saihara said. He paused. “I’ve been thinking… isn’t it weird how everyone’s been getting those headaches?” 

Purple Boy winced, then brightened up. “I know, right? I met a few others and they were sooo fun to mess with!”

“Are you... the Ultimate Prankster or something?” Akamatsu raised a brow. 

“Ultimate Robophobic Sex Criminal is more like it,” Kiibo sneered. 

_For such a morally-inclined robot, he’s surprisingly petty. _Saihara covered his mouth with a hand, hoping he didn’t laugh audibly at the realization.

Purple Boy giggled._ Cute,_ Saihara thought; he then shook his head, once again scrambling to smother the thought. Then, Purple Boy’s face transformed into a sadistic grin. 

“Ultimate Supreme Leader,” his lip curled up cruelly, “Ouma Kokichi.”

A sharp jab pricked Saihara’s head. He let out a small whine of pain, clutching his head.

“Aw, Saihara-chan, do you remember me?” Ouma asked, blushing. He clicked his tongue, blush suddenly gone. “This sucks! I don’t remember you at aaaall.”

“Negative, you liar,” Kiibo responded. “Your heart rate is picking up.”

“Also negative,” Ouma shot back, irritated. “You don’t even have those functions on you, Kiiboy.”

“Gh!” Kiibo withered. “My prank is ruined… H-How’d you know?”

“God, why are you so stupid? You _showed_ me your control panel earlier--”

“Both of you, shut up,” Akamatsu cuffed them both on the backs of their heads, grabbing them by the scruffs of their necks like they were unruly kittens and ignoring their indignant whines.

(Saihara was _so_ glad he had Akamatsu.)

Just then, a girl wandered in. “Um… Hi? I think you four are the last ones left here; everyone else is waiting in the gym. I’m Shirogane Tsumugi, the Ultimate Cosplayer.”

Saihara turned to look at her and was met with the most violent headache he’d had yet. 

He screamed, falling to the floor._ “AAAGH--”_

_ **no, no, no** _

** _this can’t be happening_ **

** _we have to escape_ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

And then Saihara returned, panting and sweating and clutching his head in pain.

“What,” he breathed, “was _that?”_

Everyone else was also clutching their heads, though none of them looked nearly as exhausted as Saihara felt.

“Sorry!” Shirogane squeaked. “I’m-- um, I, uh--” she bowed. “I’m so sorry!”

“Saihara-chan,” Ouma’s eyes were wide. “Uh?”

“...Did you guys not hear that?” Saihara asked, confused. “Or see them? The words?”

“See what?” Akamatsu said. “I did get a pretty big headache, and I heard a lot of music, but there was mostly just the feeling of forgetting something?”

“Forget seeing and hearing, I’m smelling something,” Ouma grinned._ Likely a lie of his, _Saihara thought.

“My inner voice is clamoring very loudly, indeed…” Kiibo put a finger to his mouth, pensive.

“Inner voice?” Shirogane asked inquisitively. 

“Yes!” Kiibo beamed. “It guides me to make the right choices. Though I can’t necessarily hear words it says, I do get general feelings and emotions from it, so I make decisions based off of that.”

“Huh,” Shirogane’s glasses gleamed. “Interesting.”

Saihara felt like there was something he was missing, but before he could think about it, Shirogane continued.

“You’re all very interesting, but I’m, um-- I’m quite plain myself,” she said, smoothing out the pleats of her skirt. “Just an ordinary teenager with anxiety and a penchant for dress-up.”

(Saihara could’ve sworn he heard Ouma mutter _‘mood’_ under his breath.)

“But anyway!” Shirogane clasped her hands excitedly. “It’s good to meet you all. Amami-kun’s been gathering everyone in the gym, and now that I’ve found you guys, w-we can go there too. There are sixteen of us total. Everyone else is waiting!”

So the five of them left for the gym. Ouma continued harassing Kiibo, and Akamatsu had started chatting up Shirogane, much to the latter’s surprise. The two of them excused themselves and went to the girl’s bathroom, leaving Saihara waiting outside with the other two.

_Aaah, _he thought._ Why me?_

“So, Ouma-kun,” Saihara asked nonchalantly, grimacing internally at his awkwardness. “You’re a supreme leader?”

“Yuuuup!” Ouma’s eyes positively glittered up close. “Wow, Saihara-chan, I didn’t know you were so interested in me!”

Kiibo made gagging noises.

“What kind of organization do you lead?” his curiosity was getting the better of him, but Saihara couldn’t really help it. All these years as a detective had gotten to him; he was more nosy about these sort of things than he wanted to be.

“An evil one,” Ouma replied. He spread his arms out wide. “With ten thousand members!”

Kiibo’s mouth fell open in a scoff. “A pipe dream at best! There’s no way you could control that many people!”

Ouma’s face morphed, turning into a cheshire grin. “Reeeally? I wouldn’t doubt an evil leader if I were you, Kiiboy.” He laughed. “Then again, I am a liar!” His face turned serious. “But I’m telling the truth about leading an evil organization.”

_I’ve barely said a thing, but I feel dizzy talking to him, _Saihara thought. _Changing thoughts and faces and what he says every other second… I think I’m forgetting how words work..._

“I can’t think of any organization that fits that description,” Saihara admitted. He looked at Ouma’s black and white prison-looking outfit and raised a brow, skeptical. “Or one that wears that sort of uniform.”

“Well, Saihara-chan, I’ll have you know that my organization controls the entire world. Behind the scenes, of course,” Ouma inspected his nails. “All the world's mafia syndicates are under my command. They'll get into turf wars if I don't control them, and that's just trouble for everyone. It's a pain, especially since peace is the best thing for the world.”

Kiibo rolled his eyes; Saihara fought back the urge to giggle in disbelief.

Ouma snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah! I command the government too! I control politicians with blackmail... I manipulate the stock market on a whim... I have subordinates all over the world. The White House, Kremlin, Beijing... Wall Street, London... And even the Tokyo Stock Exchange!” He beamed. “I make one phone call and the world changes. Lemme know if you ever wanna start something, okay?”

"Oh, stop being so childish,” Kiibo made a face. He looked Ouma up and down. “You're like-- what? Eight at most?”

For once, Ouma looked genuinely irritated. "Fuck off, bot," he grit his teeth, the slightest flush on his face. "I'm fifteen."

"In your dreams, shortie," Kiibo retorted sarcastically. Saihara covered his own mouth, muffling any incredulous laughter. _You’re one to talk, Kiibo-kun. You’re hardly a few centimeters taller than him._

Ouma's face cleared, suddenly expressionless. "Maybe all of this_ is _a dream," he replied quietly. 

It threw Saihara for a loop.

Kiibo ignored him, evidently thinking it to be a lie. "Look at what you're making me do!" he cried. "I'm wrecking the Professor's AI system by being so mean..."

“That’s your own fault, Kiiboy,” Ouma stuck out his tongue. “Anyway, what I said about being fifteen was a lie. I’m actually twenty-eight.”

_Alright, now that has to be a lie…_

“You shouldn’t think like that, Saihara-chan,” Ouma smiled at him.

Saihara made a noise of confusion. “Like what?”

“‘That has to be a lie…’” Ouma repeated Saihara’s exact thoughts. 

Saihara blanched. “Ah--!”

Ouma laughed; the sound was like bells reverberating through the hallway. “I knew it! I _can_ read minds!”

“Whatever, Mr. Fake Twenty-Eight Year Old,” Kiibo sighed. “If you really are a Supreme Leader, how’d you rise to the top, hm?” 

Ouma opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the girls bathroom door opening. Shirogane came out first, the tips of her ears pink, buttoning up the top of her collar.

“Took you long enough,” Ouma complained. Then, Akamatsu stumbled out, dizzy.

“Akamatsu-san?” Saihara asked worriedly. 

“I thought I was bi, but maybe I am a lesbian after all?” Akamatsu’s face was red and her voice equally dazed.

The three boys turned equally beet red. “Akamatsu-san?!” Saihara squeaked, grabbing her by the shoulders before she could fall. He whirled around. “Shirogane-san, what happened in there?!”

“Cospox,” Akamatsu hiccuped. “And boobs.”

_“Huh?!” _Saihara freaked. “What does that even mean?”

“C-C’mon, guys, to the gym,” Shirogane called out. 

“I have a bottle of water if you want, Akamatsu-san,” Kiibo offered, pointedly averting his gaze. “Uh--”

“I can’t tell if I’m supposed to say ‘gay rights’ or ‘TMI’,” Ouma twirled his hair in discomfort. “Uhm. Congratulations?”

Saihara sighed as Akamatsu drank the water, complexion already clearing up. “Let’s just go to the gym.”

=

They entered the gym and immediately all got severe headaches.

_Where the hell is the nurse’s office in this place,_ Saihara thought, gritting his teeth. _This is too much, I need aspirin--_

Luckily, he wasn’t alone. Almost all fifteen or so of the others were clutching their heads the same way, groaning.

The headaches continued as they all introduced themselves, curiously wondering what they were doing here, why they’d been gathered, and why they couldn’t remember anything. Saihara dutifully noted their names and talents, as well as their personalities from when they talked.

Toujo Kirumi, Ultimate Maid. Prim and proper. Dutiful. Very good at her job, apparently. Seemed like she would be a mother hen.

Shinguji Korekiyo, Ultimate Anthropologist. A bit creepy with the mask and all, but he seemed intelligent and knowledgeable. 

Gokuhara Gonta, Ultimate Entomologist. Gentlemanly with the suit, but a bit wild-- he didn’t wear shoes, and he seemed oddly fired up about people who hated bugs. Very kind and sweet, though.

Yonaga Angie, Ultimate Artist. Quite cheerful and eccentric, and also religious. Polynesian, maybe, since she talked about being from a Pacific island?

Iruma Miu, Ultimate Inventor. A bigger pervert than Ouma, apparently. She did seem intelligent despite that, though.

Hoshi Ryouma, Ultimate Tennis Pro. Very short but very wise. He seemed a bit like a delinquent, or like he was depressed-- Saihara recognized those feelings.

Chabashira Tenko, Ultimate Aikido Master. Physically strong, and a good fighter. Though kind to the girls to the point where it was clear she favored them, she hated men, calling them all degenerates. _I wonder what she’d think about me…?_ Saihara thought.

Yumeno Himiko, Ultimate… Magician. She claimed to be a mage with actual magical powers. Sleepy and a bit lazy-seeming, but she couldn’t be a bad person.

Harukawa Maki, Ultimate Child Caregiver. Curt and quiet, she looked loathe to be involved in social interactions. Her appearance and demeanor didn’t seem to suit her talent one bit, but who was Saihara to judge?

And finally, Momota Kaito, Ultimate Astronaut. By far one of the most familiar-feeling people to Saihara, if his headache had anything to say about it. He was very determined and optimistic, though somewhat aggressive about it. If he was an astronaut, he’d have to be extremely intelligent to pass all those math and science exams, especially at such a young age. He also had a rather handsome face...

_(Don’t get a crush, Shuichi. Don’t get a crush, Shuichi. Don’t get a crush, Shuichi.)_

“Normally you need a college degree to even take the exam, but I had a crafty friend who helped me forge some stuff,” Momota admitted. “And I still passed anyway, so hey! It was worth it!”

Toujo bristled. “That’s illegal.”

“Sure is!” Momota laughed. “I just couldn’t wait that long to get to space!”

“...You’re energetic, aren’t you,” Saihara smiled. 

Momota said some things about how nothing is impossible and dreams can be reality. Inspiring stuff, really. But Saihara’s attention was elsewhere. 

He couldn’t help but note how quiet Amami was throughout the whole ordeal, despite being the one who set it all up. Apparently Ouma had noticed it, too, because he was also staring at the other boy. Kiibo was looking somewhere else; Saihara couldn’t tell where his gaze was going-- maybe at the inventor? He had no clue.

They’d all gone and talked about themselves a bit-- Ouma taking the longest time, what with all his lies and everyone else’s irritation at them. But even then, Amami said nothing.

Amami quickly introduced himself, giving his name and saying that he couldn’t remember his talent or much of anything else at all. He had woken up in the gym, which was why he knew how to direct everyone there once he found everyone else.

Then, a school bell rang.

=

Ouma’s eyes widened the second Amami spoke.

One, this was familiar to him somehow, and the smell was getting worse with the headache.

Two… _He was fucking lying._

Instantly, this person had shot up on his list of suspicious people here. Naturally, everyone was suspect as the person who brought them all there-- even Saihara, though Ouma instinctively felt like he was more trustworthy somehow-- but Amami Rantaro was lying about forgetting his talent, and about waking up in the gym, and that means that he knew something about the reason why they were gathered here that the others didn’t.

But Ouma couldn’t call out the lie, because the school bell had rung.

=

“Oh, lovely!” The Monokubs’ irritating voices cheered as soon as the bell stopped. “You’re all already in the gym! Good! We can have the opening ceremony!”

“Opening Ceremony?” Saihara asked in confusion.

“What’s gonna happen to us?” Yumeno asked, a bit worried. 

Chabashira squealed. “Don’t worry, Yumeno-san! I’ll protect you!”

“Don’t,” Yumeno squirmed. “No need for that…’

“D-Don’t... I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do,” Ouma whimpered, sniffling exaggeratedly as tears leaked from his eyes.

“There’s no need to worry,” Angie smiled serenely. “God will protect us.”

“Oh, phew!” Ouma grinned, tears miraculously gone. 

Kiibo rolled his eyes. “Regardless, we must be vigilant of any potential danger.”

“He’s right,” Harukawa narrowed her gaze. “It’s not like sixteen amnesiac teenagers would be brought into some strange abandoned place just to be awarded for something.”

“Precisely,” Toujo frowned.

“You’re all stupid,” Iruma growled. “Your brains all full of weeds or something? I’ll bash ‘em outta your skulls!”

“Did someone say weed?” Shinguji said. “It’s illegal in post-war Japan, you know. But historically and culturally speaking, the Japanese have cultivated marijuana for many purposes--”

“I meant like dandelions and shit, you fucking stoner--”

“I’m a pretty strong astronaut if I do say so myself, so I can do the beating if you want--”

“Enough!” Akamatsu threw her hands in the air. “All of you, _**BE QUIET!”**_

Silence. 

Akamatsu was indeed good at bringing them all together. _I wonder why that is… _Saihara thought.

“What’s that?” Gonta asked suddenly. 

“Hm…?” Hoshi drawled. “You’re right, I hear something.”

“Rumbling noises,” Amami breathed.

Shirogane tilted her head. “It-- It just plain sounds like something out of a mecha anime.”

She was right: hardly a few seconds later, five gigantic, mecha-like robots landed in the gym with a crash. Shirogane screamed; Gonta urged everyone to get behind him. Chabashira wondered aloud what these monstrous beings were; Ouma was awed by them, like they were children’s toys.

_Too much is happening all at once, _Saihara thought dizzily. _What the hell is going on?_

“These are exisals!” Came the familiar voice of a Monokub-- Monokid?-- from within the robot.

Exisals. 

…? Deja vu?

“No need to panic, everyone,” Amami frowned. “If these guys wanted to kill us, they’d have done it by now.” He sighed, then casually walked up to them.

_What are you doing!!! _Saihara wanted to yell. _Get away from those--_

“So, what do you want?” Amami asked, exhausted. “You clearly want_ something _from us, since you’ve got guns.”

What on earth was wrong with Amami? He was way too calm.

“Oh, lemme guess,” Amami said coolly, a thinly worn smile on his face. “You’re gonna force us to do something, or else you’ll hurt or kill us--”

The exisal gripped Amami’s arm, squeezing it to the point of pain. 

Everyone else watching flinched. Amami didn’t bat an eye.

“Don’t go revealing all our plans so quickly,” Monokid chided. “What are you, a detective?”

“I dunno,” Amami talked back. “My memories are gone. Maybe I was used to threats in my previous life?”

_He’s insane, _Saihara thought dazedly. _He’s-- this is absolutely insane. _

“Whatever, you’re right!” Monokid continued. “The fact is, we’re--”

“K-I-L-L-I-N-G G-A-M-E,” Monodam interrupted.

The Monokubs began fighting each other over upstaging and revealing plans and whatnot. Meanwhile, everyone below had frozen.

“Killing game?” Akamatsu sounded out slowly, horrified. “What…”

“What the hell does that mean,” Momota asked. “Huh…?”

“We need to get out of here,” Kiibo’s voice had risen. “They’re fighting in those exisals and if we don’t get out of here soon then--”

“Now, now…” A new voice spoke up. “Stop this fighting, my cute little cubs.”

(Amami looked like he’d seen a ghost.)

“Oh, that voice is--!” Monophanie began.

A new bear appeared before them: Black and white, with a gleaming red eye, grinning at them.

“That’s right, everyone! Good ol’ Headmaster Monokuma is back.”

=

“Daddy!” the Monokubs cried.

Amami wanted to puke.

_Monokuma fucks?_ was his first thought, but he tossed that out in favor of something else: _There are six bears hosting this killing game? Including Monokuma, who remembered everything from the last time?_

He was fucked. He was so, so fucked.

Survival would be harder than he thought.

=

The bears were going on and on about some random crap that nobody cared to listen to. Monokuma-- the Headmaster?-- seemed irritated by them.

“I can see the malice festering around that teddy bear,” Shinguji muttered. Monokuma looked incensed.

“Rude! I’m not a teddy bear, I’m your headmaster, Monokuma!”

“I dunno, you look more like a robot to me,” Iruma whistled.

“More importantly,” Amami interrupted calmly, “I’m a little more than concerned about this killing game you mentioned.”

“Oh, that,” Monokuma said. “Yeah. You’re all gonna participate in a killing game and kill each other.”

Saihara froze. Then:

“WHAT?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“No way I can handle that--”

“Stop joking! Why would we agree to participate in something like--”

“This can’t be happening--”

“What the fuck does that even mean--”

“SHUT UP,” Monokuma screeched, volume so loud that everyone had to cover their ears. “That’s better,” he crooned at their silence. “Now, where was I? Yes... Of course you have to do it. This academy is surrounded by a wall. It is inescapable. Even if you tried, we’d just kill you with these exisals.” He held up a claw. “I hold life and death over all of you.”

“Y-You’re ridiculous…” Chabashira held up her hands in a fighting stance. “Why would friends kill each other?”

“Who said you were friends?” Monokuma shot back. “In this world, you’re enemies out to kill each other.”

“With what weapons?” Hoshi demanded. Monokuma cackled. 

“What sort of barbaric display are you remembering, Hoshi? Nothing like that! Here’s how it’ll actually go down…”

=

Amami tuned out the explanation of murders and trials and punishments. Once was more than enough for him to remember permanently.

Permanent. Death was permanent. And in games like this, it was inevitable.

“Killing School Semester, huh,” he said, face dark, gaze pointed in Shirogane’s direction. “It sounds like a game.”

Shirogane didn’t notice him at all.

=

While the others murmured about the killing game-- exciting, terrifying, ‘not boring’... Saihara felt numb.

“T-This has to be a lie, right?” Shirogane stammered. “A bad lie, or-- or a dream or something…”

But it wasn’t a lie, or a dream. It did feel more like fiction, or a story on TV-- something so far removed from reality that none of them could picture it. But it wasn’t. This was reality. 

“I-- I don’t want to do something like this,” Saihara swallowed. “A killing game… It’s wrong. I’d never--”

“Would you?” Monokuma tilted his head. “What if I said that the first person to murder someone will get to escape scot-free, without a trial? Would you murder someone then? We can call it the ‘First Blood Perk’.”

Everyone froze. 

“We won’t care,” Akamatsu spoke up courageously. “We won’t participate in this killing game!”

“Don’t speak up so rashly against that thing, Akamatsu-san,” Chabashira whispered fearfully. “You could get hurt…”

“No, no, that sort of defiant spirit’s good!” Monokuma laughed. “It’s always fun to watch the despair of a confident, defiant leader who ends up getting their hands dirty anyway.”

The tension was unbearable-- pun unintended.

“That’s all,” Monokuma said slyly. “You’re dismissed. Have fun in the killing game!”

Saying so, he promptly vanished, leaving sixteen horrified teenagers suddenly shouting amongst each other, freaking out, or utterly silent, contemplating what was going on.

_This is madness, _Saihara thought. He paused.

_But why do I feel like this is familiar?_

=

Amami really, _really _wanted to puke right now.

_Here we go again._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this today specifically, but it's Rantaro Amami's birthday, and considering what's in this chapter, I really couldn't resist. Happy birthday, Rantaro! I'm so, so sorry for making you suffer.


	2. 1-1. Exploring > Incentives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara and Akamatsu find a strange place.
> 
> Amami is tired.
> 
> Why was there wind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still unsure about how my update schedule for this will go, but I'm (tentatively) gunning for weekly...?
> 
> I'm also thinking of doing double/triple updates with the investigations and trials. Obviously posting investiations, trials, AND executions all at once is too much, but if you're okay with that, let me know....?
> 
> The beginning will be a bit slow, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.

“Yeah, like _fuck_ we’re actually gonna agree to kill each other. I don’t know you shits, but I’m not a murderer,” Iruma scowled. “‘N I don’t think any of you are either.”

Everyone glanced at each other warily. The First Blood Perk would be an enticing offer to anyone desperate enough to want to escape. But to murder for freedom… it was too great a cost. 

“Yeah,” Akamatsu nodded. “I dunno much about you guys yet, but if we want to get out of this place, we’re gonna do it by working together. Not by killing each other.”

She looked at Saihara, who in turn looked like he was thinking about something very carefully. Not at all unexpected from him; Saihara did seem the more cautious, thoughtful type. 

“We’ve barely known each other a few minutes, but I can already tell you two have decent heads on your shoulders,” Momota grinned. “I agree! We’ll reject this ‘First Blood Perk’ thing and find a way to escape!”

“Um!”

Everyone turned to look. Shirogane Tsumugi stood there, trembling.

“Um, I-- I mean, sorry, I’m trying to-- yeah, what I want to say is-- ah, I mean...”

“Spit it out,” Harukawa commanded. 

Shirogane shrank. “I-- I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to escape.”

Once again, the room filled with tension. Surprisingly, Amami was the one who spoke up. “What do you mean,” he said slowly, “you don’t want to escape?”

Shirogane turned red as she concentrated her eyes to the ground; Akamatsu felt a surge of sympathy for her, speaking up when she was clearly so nervous.

“I’m-- I’m scared,” she confessed. “That if-- if everyone tries to escape right off th-the bat, the exisals will kill us before we can really begin to remember anything.” Shirogane took a deep breath. “It’d be just plain sad.”

It made sense, Akamatsu decided. It made sense that someone who wasn’t as positive as her or Iruma or Momota would think like this. Upon looking at some of the others, she noticed a few reactions sticking out.

“Nnnn… You do have a point,” Yumeno shifted uncomfortably.

“But isn’t it worth trying to escape, though?” Chabashira asked, seemingly more directed at Yumeno specifically rather than everyone as a group.

“Let’s do this, then,” Akamatsu spoke up. “Those who want to escape should explore the academy and try to find an escape route. Those who actually want to stay here can stay, but should come with us if we do find a route that we can leave through.” She smiled. “Does that work?”

A low murmur filled the room; essentially everyone nodded their assent, save for four people.

Ouma was the lone person who switched back and forth between violently cheering her idea and violently booing her idea.

Shirogane was quiet. Natural, for someone who was still anxious about getting killed.

Amami was quiet. Also expected, for someone so mysterious.

_Most interesting,_ Akamatsu thought, _is Saihara-kun. _

He had smiled at her, but behind the smile it looked almost as if he wasn’t really there. Like his mind was in a completely different world, dreaming or thinking of something. Could it be escape? What was on his mind?

It was utterly impossible for Akamatsu to figure out.

As the others filed out of the gym to explore and look for a potential escape route, Akamatsu found herself walking towards Saihara.

“Shall we go?” she beamed. Saihara blinked in surprise.

“Sure,” he said. “Lead the way.”

=

“Wait, you mean like _those_ Saiharas? The actress Saihara Sayuri and the screenwriter Saihara Shunpei?” Akamatsu was practically bouncing on her heels. “That’s so cool!” 

“Ah… yeah,” Saihara deflected. “Them.”

Akamatsu was very… optimistic. And extroverted. Being around her was a breath of fresh air in a way, but it was also a lot more exhausting than it would’ve been if Saihara had just kept to himself.

That aside, it was impressive to him how easily she had slid into the role of a leader. Impressive and terrifying.

Perhaps he was being overcautious, but it struck Saihara as strange how easily Akamatsu was able to gain their trust and dish out orders like a leader, especially when there was already an Ultimate Supreme Leader among them-- who, namely, didn’t seem like he fit his talent at all.

He really didn’t want to doubt Akamatsu-- she was a good, kind friend, and he really wouldn’t want to be exploring with anyone else-- but he decided he’d refrain from trusting her too much for now.

With these thoughts in his head, Saihara explored the academy together with Akamatsu. So far, they’d managed to see the basement with the library, Akamatsu’s lab, with its grand piano and all the selections of music, Iruma’s lab with its inventions, and pretty much the entire courtyard, of which several buildings-- probably student labs-- were restricted. 

One of the courtyard buildings that _wasn’t_ restricted was brazenly advertised with bright, blaring lights: the Love Hotel. 

Saihara grimaced. _Why would this sort of place be here…?_

Monokuma popped up out of nowhere, causing Saihara to shriek and Akamatsu to promptly attempt whacking the bear with her backpack.

“Rude!” Monokuma yelled, brushing off the dent Akamatsu’s backpack left. “I get having fight or flight reactions, but I could have you tried for assault and battery, young lady!”

Akamatsu huffed as she put her backpack back on.

“What’s a Love Hotel doing in a place like this?” Saihara asked. “We-- We’re all teenagers…”

Monokuma beamed. “Oh, yes. I just gave this little spiel to someone else earlier, but it’s basically a way for you all to get to know each other! Only open at nighttime.”

“Like…” Akamatsu and Saihara glanced at each other nervously, fully aware of the connotations. “Like one night stands, or speed dating, or…?”

“You go through each other’s biggest fantasies-- whether it’s sexual, romantic, or platonic-- and try to fulfill the other person’s fantasy,” Monokuma corrected. “If you fail, they’ll wake up feeling sad and unhappy. If you succeed, they’ll wake up feeling refreshed and happy. Either way, they won’t remember a thing.”

“How does that even work?” Saihara gulped, taking in the building. It wasn’t all that big-- in fact, it looked like there was only one room in there to begin with-- but it still concerned him.

“I’d be happy to explain it to you,” Monokuma gushed. “When you enter, there’ll be a little electronic panel by the door. You can click on anyone’s face, and voila! You’ll be in their fantasy.” 

“That sounds pretty unethical,” Akamatsu frowned. Saihara was inclined to agree. Especially with the whole bit where the other person wouldn’t remember....

“Some of you are too horny for your own good though,” Monokuma scowled, ignoring their concern, “so there’s a limit to going in here. Everyone gets four turns, and you can't repeat the same person's scenario. You only get one shot! And if you wanna come here just to chill in the room-- though I have no idea why you’d want to do that-- you can have that additional use just once.”

Akamatsu still looked skeptical. “But… what about privacy?”

“Don’t you have eyes?” Monokuma laughed. “There’s only one room, so if someone else is occupied in there, you can’t go in. It’s a private experience. You get to see, hear, and get to know the other person, all by yourself!”

“I think she meant like, monitors or cameras in the room,” Saihara coughed, pointedly covering his reddening face with his hand.

“Oh, duh. There aren’t any of those inside,” Monokuma waved a paw dismissively. “Nobody wants to watch underage porn! What happens in the love hotel stays in the love hotel.”

“Alright then, we’ll be going,” Akamatsu promptly took Saihara’s hand and led him away from the Love Hotel.

“Thank you,” Saihara wheezed. “That place was so weird…”

Akamatsu also looked rather flushed. “It’s too embarrassing… I don’t think anyone here would be deranged enough to go have fun in there when we’ve been told to kill each other.”

“Yeah,” Saihara agreed. “Can-- do you mind if we go back to the main building? I was thinking of checking out the higher floors.”

=

As it turned out, all of the higher floors were also restricted. There wasn’t much left to explore, and it was getting late at night-- bedtime was 10, according to Monokuma, and he’d leave announcements when it was time to wake up and go to bed.

The conversation had gone back to their parents again, much to Saihara’s dismay. He couldn’t figure out how to politely divert the conversation away, so he continued answering Akamatsu’s questions.

“You said they were an actor and a screenwriter, but they live in America, don’t they?” Akamatsu pressed on with interest, completely unaware of Saihara’s internal dilemma.

“They moved for work,” Saihara said, awkwardly tugging on his collar. “They’re pretty hands-off with parenting, so it wasn’t so much of a big deal to me... I don’t see them as huge celebrities or anything. They’re just my mom and dad who happen to be on TV a lot.”

“I’ve seen at least one of their Hollywood movies, now that I think about it...” Akamatsu thought out loud. “What are they like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The little voice in his head crowed with glee. _What’re you gonna tell her, [$%!%#@]? ‘Oh, y’know. They gave me some psychological trauma before I moved in with my aunt and uncle. They’re always busy. They still treat me like I’m their precious little darling doll. The normal stuff!’_

He pushed the thoughts out of his head and quietly responded. “Mm… They’re not snobs or anything, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t really talk to them. They kinda…”

“Kinda?”

“Sorry, can we not talk about my parents?” Saihara grimaced, moving a hand to cover his mouth. Telling her directly wasn’t something he really wanted to do, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Not to be rude or lash out or anything, but… they’re kind of a sore topic...”

It wasn’t a total lie. It wasn’t a total act. It was actually more honest than he’d been pretending he was okay with the scrutiny.

(And yet, he still hated himself a little bit for hiding the truth.)

Akamatsu blinked back in surprise before smiling gently. “No, it’s my fault for not realizing I was making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” They walked a bit further towards the dorms, enjoying a short silence. “Anything else you’d like to talk about?” Akamatsu asked suddenly. “Like, how did you become a detective?”

Saihara turned a bit pink. “Oh… I’ve been living with my aunt Sonomi and uncle Shuhei since I was little. My uncle… he’s a detective too. I got started watching and learning from him. My first case was finding one of my classmate’s lost pets...”

Akamatsu’s mouth widened in a grin. “Aw, that’s so cute! That’s amazing, Saihara-kun!”

“H-How about you? Becoming a pianist, I mean.”

Akamatsu looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “I’ve been doing music lessons since before I can even remember. Piano especially… I think I was better at playing piano than I was at walking when I was a baby,” she grinned sheepishly.

Saihara stifled a laugh at the mental image. “I think that’s pretty amazing, yourself.”

“Ah, perfect,” a new voice called for them clearly. “Saihara-kun, Akamatsu-san, I’ve been looking for you.”

It was Toujo. Saihara and Akamatsu gave each other a look of mutual confusion, then ran up to her as she waved them over. “We found a manhole that leads to a suspicious place. We’re thinking it may be a possible escape hatch. I’ll lead you two there; everyone else has already made it. In the meantime, tell me about what you’ve found.”

Embarrassingly yet entirely expectedly, it didn’t take too long to tell Toujo that they hadn’t actually found anything of note, save for the Love Hotel. But that didn’t matter-- apparently, nobody else had found any other exits either. Whatever this manhole of theirs was, it was bound to be their biggest lead so far.

As Toujo said, everyone was clamoring around the manhole. Momota’s eyes lit up at their arrival. “Alright, everyone’s here!” A grand pause. “Now how do we open this…?” he grimaced.

“Rather weak for an astronaut, aren’t you,” Harukawa commented drily. “You aren’t gonna try it yourself?” 

Momota gave her a once-over. “You look like you’re strong. Why don’t you try?”

Harukawa looked like he had forced five lemons into her mouth. “No.”

And that was that.

Allow me to make an attempt!” Kiibo offered valiantly. A low murmur passed through the group. Certainly a robot such as Kiibo would be strong enough to lift the heavy plate of metal.

As it turned out, Kiibo had the strength of “a mildly fit elderly person”. Iruma swore up and down, cursing whoever made a robot “so fuckin’ lame”, which devolved into an argument about the intricacies of casual robophobia and other microagressions within non-robo-friendly spaces, which Akamatsu managed to shut down before it could escalate even further.

Saihara briefly wondered why Kiibo wasn’t the Ultimate Social Justice Activist instead before shaking the thought out of his head.

“Maybe Gonta should try doing it?” Gonta suggested. Without waiting for approval, he walked up and picked up the plate effortlessly; Kiibo twitched in irritation.

“Alright!” Akamatsu cheered. “Nice job, Gonta-kun!” Before Saihara could even open his mouth, Akamatsu was already by Gonta’s side, patting him on the back and congratulating him on a job well-done.

_Yeah, _Saihara thought, a strange feeling swelling in his chest. _She’s definitely a good leader._

=

_I don’t trust this place._

Everyone had climbed down the ladder and reached the ground of what the manhole cover was hiding. Saihara was the last one. Amami came right before him.

The room was… surprisingly big. Amami took a good look around--- it was honestly a decent place, if not terribly suspicious. 

“Nice of them to mark the exit there,” he half-heartedly pointed at the sign.

Chabashira looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “Uh, no, that’s actually suspicious as hell.”

_...I was joking…_ But he didn’t bother correcting her. Really, he didn’t have the will or patience to correct her at this point.

“Even though it looks shifty, I think we ought to try it out, y’know?” Akamatsu suggested. “Any chance to escape is a good chance to escape.”

_As always, she’s taking up the leader role to give everyone hope..._

“It could be a trap,” Ouma smiled wickedly. “But okay! I guess Akamatsu-chan here would rather send us to our deaths!”

Amami raised a brow._ And what’s **he** playing at?_

But it didn’t matter. In that same old persistent way of hers, Akamatsu led them all through the tunnel marked by the exit sign.

And she led them again.

And again…

Some of them were unconscious from all the pain; others were nearly there. Amami himself was dangerously close to throwing up again-- which was saying something given how he was an adventurer-- and many of the others were complaining of severe headaches from the dungeon-like passageway and all its violent traps.

(It made Amami sick in more ways than just physically.)

_Motherfucker,_ Amami mentally swore. _I can’t handle going back there again; that place looks exactly like--_

“C’mon… guys…” Akamatsu’s breathing was uneven, and she looked absolutely terrible. Yet here she was, still trying her best to be brave. “We can’t give up. I know we can do it. This time, we’ll--”

_“Knock it off already,”_ Ouma interrupted, teeth grit. “Are you blind? Can’t you see how exhausted everyone is?”

Sure enough, Akamatsu finally snapped out of her reverie, taking in just how weary and worn everyone had become. 

“You’re free to keep trying on your own…” Ouma took a wayward glance back. “But forcing the rest of us to go along with you just because you’re all gung-ho and optimistic about it is just torture, isn’t it?” he posited. 

Akamatsu blanched at that; Ouma continued without waiting. “You know what reeeeally hurts? Being denied the right to give up… Nobody can refuse to go on or say that they’re tired because you won’t let them. No matter what we say, you have the moral high ground because you insist on being dedicated to escaping.”

“Hey, degenerate, enough!” Chabashira growled. “Quit being so selfish--”

“I’m not!” Ouma whirled around. “Get your head out of your girl-loving ass and _think about it, _Chabashira. Someone as nice and sweet as Akamatsu keeps leading us into a place like that and won’t let anyone speak up about leaving or quitting. She wouldn’t even look at us just to check and see if we’re tired or not, and we keep getting injured to the point that I’m sure almost all of us are sick now. Does what I just said not sound like torture to you?” 

Chabashira stayed silent, unable to retort. Ouma turned back to Akamatsu and continued. “Akamatsu-chan, you might think that you’re being ‘inspiring’ or whatever, but you’re not!” he wailed, complete with crocodile tears. “You’re just strong-arming us! It’s all your fault! Look at the masses if you don’t believe me! Everyone thinks so!”

A few of the others shifted uncomfortably, clearly in some level of agreement with Ouma even if they hated the way he phrased it.

_Well, then,_ Amami thought. Ouma was certainly acting like a brat about it, putting on those ridiculous faces and acting like an underdog while he preached, but he was right. How like him to stand up for others while making it seem like he wasn’t. 

The rest of the conversation Amami tuned out. It was clear to see where this conversation was going-- just more arguing and back-and-forths. Playing the blame game, picking sides-- it was something to get used to in a killing game like this.

As if on cue, Monokuma arrived. “Oh, joy! I’m so glad to see that you’ve all tasted a bit of my Death Road of Des-- whoops! Can’t be name-dropping that yet!”

Amami furrowed his brows. 

“Death Road…?” Saihara spoke up. “What do you mean?”

“Since you asked…” Monokuma grinned. “It’s just a little trap that was devised here! Not an actual escape route. It is sort of an entryway to someplace else, but it doesn’t lead to the outside world. Not that you need to know where that ‘someplace else’ is just yet...” He snickered. “Upupu… If I recall correctly, you guys are actually _used to_ not being able to go to the outside world for a long time!”

Amami clenched his fist. _Oh, shut the fuck up. _Those teasing, sly little hints at their past weren’t cute in the least. He unfurled the fist, letting his hands fall slack to his sides. _But still… What does he mean, ‘someplace else’?_

But before Amami could ask or discreetly get Monokuma to notice his question, the bear left, leaving only the nighttime announcement airing in place of his irritating voice.

“I suppose we will have to sleep in this academy for the night,” Toujo sighed. “I trust you’ve all seen the separate building for the dormitories, yes? It’s quite some distance from here, so we must get going.”

“In that case, Gonta will carry all the tired people,” Gonta offered, already picking up the far-weakend Yumeno, Shirogane, and Angie. “Hup.” 

And so everyone climbed out and walked towards the dormitory, opting to leave the manhole cover off the place for now. As Amami pulled himself out, he glanced back at the dark hole and wondered.

Dungeons. Traps. The floor plan of the school itself. The way the mastermind had to be Shirogane. The person who supposedly remembered everything that he remembered, yet wasn’t saying anything about it. Everyone’s headaches.

All of that, as well as the fact that there was still several days left before the First Blood Perk ended.

It was too much to bear-- pun _unintended, dammit._

Speaking of bears, though… What did Monokuma call this place? The Death Road of…?

(Amami knew.)

“Despair, huh?” he whispered. The wind (wait, wind?) carried his words throughout the impenetrable glass cage.

Leaving it at that, he went to bed for the night, fear lurking in the back of his mind and in everyone else’s.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I can manage to keep you all in suspense... but if you have predictions, do let me know ^^ I'm curious what you all think of this fic.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	3. 1-2. Let's All Kill Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leader and the mystery man spiral downward from there, though neither of them are aware of it.
> 
> Shirogane reaches a decision.
> 
> What was Ouma up to...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sort of a speedrun of most of chapter 1, tbh. It's also SUPER long ;;;;;;; like over 8k. sorry for the length!!
> 
> there's a LOT packed into this chapter, so i hope you all enjoy it!

Akamatsu was more anxious than she wanted to be.

She’d just woken up thanks to the obnoxious morning announcement, and had begun getting ready for the day-- not much else she could do, anyway, since they were stuck in this… Ultimate Academy. Everything about the place was vaguely familiar in a disturbing way, but she was no detective-- no matter how hard she wracked her brain, Akamatsu couldn’t quite pin down exactly_ what_ was familiar about it. Threatening music lingered in her mind-- not only piano pieces and concertos, but orchestral pieces. Grieg’s _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ was one of them.

On top of that, the First Blood Perk was still ongoing. They hadn’t managed to find a single actual exit from the academy. The Death Road thing was a total bust, and for the past few days, everyone’s mutual trust in the group was totally down the drain because of her own carelessness. 

But it couldn’t all be doom and gloom. They would find a way out. They had to.

_I’m not gonna stay here being a pawn. Not for Monokuma, or those Monokubs, or the person controlling them. I’m gonna help us all escape…!_

That was all the spark she needed to fire her up. Giving up wasn’t an option, not when their lives were on the line and she was their leader. 

_The clock’s ticking, anyway. I don’t exactly remember how long this First Blood Perk offer is gonna last, but as long as it’s here, I need to act fast…_

Just then, her dorm room’s doorbell rang. Scrambling to finish changing into normal clothes, Akamatsu opened it.

_Saihara-kun?_ she thought curiously. _What’s he doing here so early…?_

“Good morning,” Saihara greeted politely. He tilted his head, seeming to sense Akamatsu’s tension. “Sorry, did I rush you?”

Akamatsu shook her head a bit more vigorously than she probably should’ve. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Good morning back to you-- and what’s up?”

Saihara turned left and right, like he was on the lookout for something suspicious. He lowered his voice. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about… privately, if you can.”

Akamatsu was puzzled but still curious. “Okay, no problem,” she said. But even with that response, Saihara looked like he wasn’t exactly sure. 

_He overthinks a lot, huh…_

“We can talk about it later if you’d like,” Akamatsu offered, interrupting whatever train of thought Saihara must’ve been in. Akamatsu winced. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Saihara shook his head, smiling ever so slightly. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll wait a bit til my thoughts are better collected… So in the meantime, do you wanna go for breakfast? I don’t usually eat in the morning, but almost everyone else is in the cafeteria right now, so…”

At this Akamatsu brightened up. “Sure! Let’s walk together.”

=

“Mooooorning, Saihara-chan, Akamatsu-chan!”

Ouma’s grinning face took Saihara off guard. _How can he be so cheerful this early in the morning…_

“Morning, Ouma-kun!” Akamatsu smiled good-naturedly. “What’s up?”

“Good morning, Ouma-kun,” Saihara replied politely. Maybe a bit too curtly and quietly, in retrospect, because the other boy pouted as soon as he’d spoken. 

“Yeesh, Saihara-chan, you’re really unsocial,” Ouma clicked his tongue. He raised his brows, tilting his head towards the hallway out of the dorm area. “Well, whatever. I was here to ask… You two wanna walk and talk?” His eyes lit up as he pumped his fists. “It’s not good to mope alone, y’know! We gotta work like a team!”

_Funny, coming from the person who made everyone distrust Akamatsu-san after the Death Road several days ago. Not to mention, I was already with Akamatsu-san to begin with..._ Irritation simmered in Saihara’s chest. He pulled the brim of his hat lower to cover his eyes. “Mm.”

Akamatsu blinked, then laughed. “Sure! I never expected you to be so into cooperation.” She turned to Saihara, smiling. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that little Saihara-kun noise just now was a ‘yes’, too.” 

Ouma ooh-ed and aah-ed. “Woooow,” his eyes sparkled. “You have a personal translator for all your generic noises! That’s the lamest shit I’ve ever seen! You’re so lame, Saihara-chan!”

Saihara pulled his hat even lower and walked past him.

“Ah, wait up!” Akamatsu jogged after him. Ouma followed gleefully. 

Ouma didn’t seem to get Saihara’s attempts at avoiding conversation-- that, or he was intentionally ignoring them. Ouma also apparently did not understand how to tactfully take a damn hint, because he talked nonstop and it made Saihara’s headaches so, _so_ much worse.

“So, dying, huh,” Ouma said loudly. “Killing games are super fun and all, but dying is suuuper sad!”

_I am physically begging you to shut up, _Saihara internally pleaded, focusing his eyes ahead. _Be quiet. Be good. Stop talking. It’s hardly nine in the morning; I can’t handle you or your out-of-this-world lying so early..._

“Ouma-kun,” Akamatsu chided, “that’s not a good thing to joke about.”

“But it’s true! I love murder!” Ouma grinned. “In fact, my super huge evil organization has killed bajillions of people, including Mozart and Elvis.”

Akamatsu frowned. “Both of those people are dead.”

“Precisely!” he cackled. “That’s because we killed them!”

“Akamatsu-san’s right,” Saihara finally spoke up. The other two jumped, startled by his sudden outburst-- it almost made him laugh both from the hilarity and the embarrassment of it. “Whether people are dead now or are possibly going to die soon, it’s not good to joke about it. People always mean something to others, whether they’re alive or not.”

Ouma blinked, wrinkling his nose and sniffing. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you talk so much since we got here.”

Saihara flushed, pulling his cap over his eyes. “It’s true,” he mumbled.

“Welp, I guess that settles it! I am loved after all!” Ouma threw his hands up in the air. “Hooraaaay!”

Akamatsu smiled. “Good. Like you said, it’s good to keep positive thoughts--”

"Just kidding," Ouma interrupted, snickering sinisterly. "You two are ridiculous. _Nobody would care if I died."_

A stabbing pain hit Saihara in the forehead, and he let out a yell as more disembodied words flowed into his mind:

_ **hurry** _

** _take this_ **

**_DON’T BREATHE--_**

“Saihara-kun!” Akamatsu’s voice finally snapped him out of it; she was shaking his shoulders, eyebrows knit in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Uurgh,” Saihara replied eloquently, scrunching his eyes and rubbing his temple.

Ouma was behind Akamatsu, staring at Saihara with a completely blank face. 

_That's odd,_ Saihara thought to himself dizzily, gritting his teeth as Akamatsu helped pull him up. _Why did my headache get worse when he said that? _

“If you’re okay, then we should go,” Ouma sniffed, covering his nose with his hand before he continued walking.

Saihara couldn’t even ask him about it-- but he supposed he’d be able to, in due time.

At last, the three of them reached the cafeteria. The others were sitting and eating, small chatter filling in the spaces here and there. Suddenly, Saihara remembered why he had gone and woken up Akamatsu to begin with.

To tell or not to tell, that was the question. Or more like, _when_ to tell.

Despite what he’d thought earlier, Saihara definitely trusted Akamatsu now-- she was their leader. Their reliable and kind leader who worked hard to help them all, even if she wasn’t perfect. The Death Road has solidified it-- she was determined, not malicious. They were all trapped here, so they’d have to trust each other for now. 

Not to mention, Akamatsu was the first person Saihara met here. The way their friendship was progressing, it was only a given that he’d tell her and not someone else about what he found in the library.

The others were a different story. For the most part, nobody immediately struck him as overly suspicious, save for Amami-- and even then, Amami was probably just struggling to get his thoughts together himself. They were all stuck in a rough scenario. Still, everyone here clearly had something to do with each other’s memories-- why else would they all get headaches as soon as they saw each other?

Even Ouma was suspicious, with the way he kept causing Saihara to get those headaches and those words in his head… And what was with that line earlier? _‘Nobody would care if I died’? _It was too sad for Saihara to even continue thinking about. And Ouma called _them_ the ridiculous ones.

Conversation in the cafeteria was muted until Ouma rudely snapped everyone awake by bringing up the elephant in the room: their utter failure in the Death Road. He followed that with talk about the First Blood Perk, and then coyly slipped in the fact that he’d be alone in his room the rest of the week, save for mealtimes.

Saihara suppressed the urge to sigh. It was relatively peaceful up til that point… or not, actually-- Ouma had been rather disruptive ever since Saihara had gone to wake up Akamatsu.

Even with all the mixed responses and differences in opinion about whether Akamatsu was at fault or not (“I don’t think she is,” Saihara piped up once, and then promptly did not speak again for the remainder of the time), Saihara wondered what the point of all this was.

_Uncle Shuhei used to say it all the time… Talking doesn’t get anything done. Action does._

That being said, there had to be some sort of reason why Ouma was being so… _persistent. _For someone who didn’t initially seem like a leader at all, Saihara was ever so slightly intrigued by the way he talked. His speech back in the Death Road, his speech while insisting on walking with Saihara and Akamatsu to the cafeteria, and his speech now… They sounded incredibly rude and childish for the most part, but upon further thought, they actually did hold some sort of meaning.

Plus, the other boy was clearly tied to his memories.

Saihara wasn’t quite at the point where he actively _cared _about the nonsensical things Ouma did, but idly thinking about them from time to time kept his mind away from worrying about the bookshelf in the library too much.

“At any rate…” Hoshi had changed the subject, “What do we do now about escape?”

Saihara tensed. Should he…? Or should he not…? The person who brought them here might be among the group, so maybe he ought to--

“...I think we should explore the building itself more,” Amami said. 

A tinge of pain brushed past Saihara’s forehead; he snapped up, looking at Amami in confusion. _What…?_

Shirogane, Kiibo, and Ouma looked just as spooked as he did. 

“Care to elaborate?” Shinguji asked skeptically. 

Amami sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “I think it’d be a good idea to just explore what we have here for now. Since all we were focused on was escaping, we never really checked what was actually _here,_ right? Maybe there are tools we can use to bust out, or something…”

“Pretty boy’s right,” Iruma scowled. “If we’re supposed to be playing some dumb fucking murder game, then there’s probably gonna be weapons here we can use.” Her face morphed into something rather disgusting. “Or maybe even fun toys to play with… ehehe…”

Harukawa tossed a fearsome glare at her; Iruma instantly withered. “I-It was just a joke…”

Kiibo sighed. “And I thought Ouma-kun’s dick questions were the worst thing I’d ever have to endure…”

Iruma brightened up all over again, drooling. “His _what_ questions? Elaborate! Elaborate right now or I’ll punish you!”

Kiibo let out a screech as Iruma waxed poetic about sex; the others ignored them. 

“Ugh… Both of you, be quiet,” Akamatsu pinched the bridge of her nose. She marched right up to Kiibo and Iruma and held each of their hands in hers. The two of them quieted, suddenly looking more flustered.

“We need to escape,” Akamatsu said, clasping their hands tightly and bringing them closer to chest level. “Everyone here, including me, needs your help. So let’s not get off-topic, okay? Pay attention to the discussion.”

“Y-Yeah,” Iruma stammered, redder than a cherry. Kiibo nodded vigorously, equally red-faced despite being made entirely of metal.

“So… is it agreed?” Shirogane spoke up hesitantly. She appeared flustered by everyone’s sudden attention on her; she pointed her gaze off to the side. “That we’ll explore the school for items and such, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Akamatsu immediately responded. Her voice was strong. “We should do it.”

(In the back of his mind, Saihara wondered whether a bookshelf counted as an “item”.)

=

The rest of the morning, they explored the school for items. Unfortunately, they found little. 

Akamatsu, Saihara, and Shirogane pored through the books in the library-- an extremely excessive amount; there were piles and piles on top of the shelves, too-- and though they were interesting and academic, they contained no real threats or tips as to escape. Everyone else-- grouped in threes, with the exception of one group of four-- were exploring other areas. 

“There doesn’t seem to be anything here,” Shirogane sighed, closing one of the many books she’d opened over the past few hours. “I’m beginning to think this endeavor is just plain pointless…”

“Mm…” Saihara hummed noncommittally. Akamatsu raised a brow to herself. _He seems a little out of it lately..._

“Saihara-kun, did you find anything?” Akamatsu asked.

Saihara jumped, startled by her sudden volume. “AAH-- Ah, sorry! Yeah, I’m--” he scrambled to compose himself. “--I’m just--” he sighed. “I’m just trying to think…”

“Well,” Shirogane eyed the big bookshelf behind them, pausing thoughtfully for a moment. “Ah. The clock up there says it’s close to lunchtime, so I’m going to the cafeteria.” She fidgeted with a thick bracelet on her wrist. “If you two would like to stay here, then by all means.”

“No, that’s alright!” Akamatsu replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. “We’ll catch up.” She puffed up her chest and pumped her arm, determined. “I’m sure we’ll find something sooner or later!”

Shirogane giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Ahaha… Akamatsu-san, you’re very energetic. I just plain can’t keep up with that…” She took a look at awkward grimace on Saihara’s face and giggled again. “And I guess I’m not the only one. See you in the game room later today, Akamatsu-san.” 

With that, Shirogane left. As soon as the library doors closed behind her, Akamatsu let it burst. “Saihara-kun,” she said breathlessly, “I have an idea I want to try out.”

Saihara’s face didn’t betray any emotions, as usual. A tiny part of Akamatsu was almost disappointed that he didn’t look more surprised, or even curious. He was so quiet and calm most of the time that it was hard to picture him really making any other expressions than “resting face” and “startled”.

Even so, she didn’t mind all that much. Saihara wasn’t heartless. That much was obvious to tell.

“Before that, um…” he took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Akamatsu tilted her head quizzically. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“The bookshelf behind us,” he whispered breathily, and it was clear from the way his eyes shone that it was important. Akamatsu turned to look at it. 

It was big. It had books. There was a clock behind it.

“What about it?” she asked.

“I actually found out on day one,” Saihara shifted in discomfort, “but I was worried that I might be revealing something dangerous if I told everyone else, especially if one of them is the person who trapped us here to begin with.” 

He walked past her to the bookshelf in question, then yanked on it, hard.

And to Akamatsu’s surprise, it opened.

It was a secret panel-- behind the bookshelf was a sleek door, painted in a simple black and white pattern that resembled a certain bear she was all too familiar with.

“It looks like Monokuma…” she gasped, suddenly realizing what Saihara meant. “Is this--”

Saihara nodded. “I think it’s a room that belongs to the mastermind.”

Akamatsu could only stare, amazed. “How did you even realize this was behind the bookshelf?” her voice betrayed her awe. “I didn’t even notice it was a door at all…”

“The shadows along the floor and the hinges,” Saihara said simply, as if it explained everything. “It also felt lighter when I touched it there. There were a few other details, but...”

“You went that in-depth with the investigation?” Akamatsu raised a brow, impressed. _Clearly he isn’t the Ultimate Detective for nothing…_

Saihara rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s pedantic of me, but I like being thorough.” He let out a sigh. “At any rate…” He motioned towards a key card by the door. “It looks like whoever the mastermind is opens up this bookshelf, then uses a key card to enter the hidden room.”

Akamatsu’s eyes widened. “What do we do about it?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Saihara shrugged. 

But deep down, Akamatsu felt like both of them were on the same page.

“We should try,” she licked her lips, “to catch them.”

“It-- it could be dangerous,” Saihara looked warily around them again. _He really is overly cautious, _Akamatsu thought. 

“But it’s the only lead we have so far as to who brought us here,” she insisted. She straightened up. “We should come up with a plan. Like a stakeout, or something to catch them while they’re trying to go in...”

Saihara was silent. He placed a hand over his mouth.

Akamatsu felt the urge to pinch his cheeks. He was too quiet, really! It was impossible to determine what he was thinking when he just went into thinking mode like that.

“And then what?” Saihara finally asked. “Interrogate them?”

Akamatsu shrugged. “We can restrain them and call the others.”

“...What if… What if it’s someone physically strong, like Gonta?” Saihara countered.

That made Akamatsu stop for a second. She’d never considered it-- not only the idea of Gonta being the mastermind, but also the fact that Saihara was really suspicious of everyone here.

“I never took you for the paranoid type,” she remarked.

Saihara blinked in surprise. “I’m… I’m a detective. An apprentice, sure, but…” his voice tapered off, thoughtful. “It’s in my blood to question things. I wouldn’t call myself paranoid… I only doubt others because I want to trust them.”

It kind of hurt, but she knew he was right to think that way.

“Well, we’ll just do our best to restrain them if they’re strong,” she said simply. Saihara didn’t offer any further arguments.

“Let’s go?” Akamatsu offered. She looked around the library one more time. “This place is nice and all, but there isn’t much else here. Not to mention,” she glanced at the clock, “I have to be somewhere after lunch.”

“Sure,” Saihara replied, walking away from the hidden bookshelf door and brushing his hands off. “Do you want to go to the warehouse later? Escape aside, there are probably more supplies there that can help us catch the mastermind.”

Akamatsu furrowed her brows. _Had he been fidgeting with the card key…? _She shook her head. _Whatever. If it’s Saihara-kun, I’m sure he has everyone’s best interests in mind. _

She smiled. “Sure. I’ll meet you around five in the evening.”

=

After lunch, Akamatsu made her way to the game room. 

She’d agreed to meet with Shirogane there earlier-- they had gotten into a conversation on nails and fashion while looking through the library, and Shirogane, completely aghast at Akamatsu’s lack of makeup experience, urged her to come to the game room so she could paint her nails.

It was a kind gesture-- Shirogane was usually rather timid, but she’d gotten so fired up over fashion and her hobbies. Even with something like a killing game lurking behind them all, they’d be able to do ordinary teenager things like this.

It was nice.

She quietly opened the door to the game room and was surprised to see Shirogane already there.

“I have all the nail stuff ready!” Shirogane looked pumped as she held out far more nail polish bottles than she had hands, or even fingers. “I’m not really the type who does my own nails often, and I don’t really know much about nail art since I’m plain, but I’ll make your nails look just plain gorgeous!”

Akamatsu laughed. “I’ll leave it to you, then. Can I have pink?”

“Sure,” Shirogane took out the pink bottle and began painting Akamatsu’s nails on one hand. When she was finished, she put the cap on the bottle again. “There,” she smiled. “It’s not the best, but well…”

Akamatsu shook her hand, trying to air dry it. “Oh, shush. It looks super pretty!”

They chattered a bit more while Akamatsu’s nails dried. Then, Amami walked in. 

“Oh, hey!” Akamatsu waved. “Amami-kun!”

(Shirogane moved her hand to her forehead, confused.)

Amami walked over. “Didn’t expect to see you two here together,” he mused. He glanced at the nail polish bottles. “Girl’s day, I’m guessing?”

Akamatsu nodded. “Isn’t it pretty?” she gushed, holding out a hand. “Shirogane-san did this for me!”

“It looks nice,” Amami praised, a bit intrigued. “May I see your other hand, Akamatsu-san?” 

Akamatsu blinked, holding it out for him despite her confusion. “Sure?” 

Amami looked at it. “Oh, wow, they’re really well filed,” he held her hand gently, tilting it from side to side to get a look at all the nails. “Probably a pianist thing, I bet,” he murmured to himself. He looked up at her. “Can I paint your other hand, if you don’t mind? I love this kind of stuff, and it’s been a while since I last...”

A dull sense of pain spread in Akamatsu’s head; she forced herself to ignore it. “Sure, why not?”

(Shirogane tsked.)

Amami smiled and let go of her hand briefly to open a different bottle of nail polish, after which he took her hand again. It wasn’t really a genuinely happy smile, no; it looked a bit superficial and awkward-- but Akamatsu decided to think on that later.

“I used to do makeup and fashion sorts of things for my little sisters all the time,” Amami sighed wistfully. The weight of nostalgia permeated his every word, even when making idle chatter. “Your nails are a lot like Yukina’s in particular, so a French slant would probably suit you best.” 

He pulled the brush along Akamatsu’s nails with ease. She winced; the brush _really_ tickled and it was hard not to squirm. “Is that-- what, some sort of toast?”

Amami paused, staring at her incredulously. Then, he burst out laughing.

Akamatsu’s heart skipped a beat. Naturally, she’d never heard anyone here laughing since they had all woken up, save for Ouma’s supreme leader cackling and Angie’s occasional ‘nyahaha’s-- but the sound of someone as mysterious as Amami losing his composure in genuine delight was something rather special, in her opinion.

“I-- sorry,” Amami wheezed, wiping a stray tear from his eyes using the sleeve of his shoulder. “I’ve never heard anyone say something so dumb before…”

“Hey!” Akamatsu protested, jerking her hand, Amami laughed again, holding on and squeezing a bit more tightly.

“Don’t move, you might smudge it!” he insisted, face rosy and creased with amusement. “Just hold still a little bit longer. I’m almost done, promise.”

As promised, Amami finished with her nails. Indeed, they looked a lot more stylish than Shirogane’s design-- but Akamatsu honestly liked both equally. She couldn’t stop staring at them. “Thank you so much!” 

Amami chuckled. “If I had rhinestones or something they’d probably look fancier, but this is good enough, I think.”

Akamatsu turned, hoping that Shirogane wouldn’t be offended by her getting Amami to also do her nails. “Shirogane-san, can I do yours next?”

But strangely, Shirogane was staring off into space.

=

The headache was strong. The scenes played out in Shirogane Tsumugi’s mind like she was watching a silent movie.

A boy talking to her. Sternly holding up a finger as he warned her--

Flash forward.

He was grabbing her wrist and yelling at her, tears pooling at his chin--

Flash forward.

The feeling of something cold yet clearly human wrapping around her, and the breathy wind of a whisper in her ear--

“Shirogane-san,” the boy’s worried voice snapped her out of it.

Her eyes were glassy-- not intentionally, but she could work that real reaction into her act.

“Ah!” she startled, shrinking back. 

Amami retracted his hand like he’d been stung with acid.

“S-Sorry…” she bit her lip. Mentally, her gears were turning. _Keep acting timid, and nobody should suspect you,_ she thought coolly. _Amami-kun was involved with the last season, but his memories shouldn’t be acting up if things went well. _

It was strange, how he kept looking at her like that. His character wasn’t meant to be romantically inclined towards anyone, and yet…

Amami paused, then smiled at her awkwardly. “Let’s talk sometime, yeah? I’d like to get to know you better.”

Akamatsu let out a squeak and then immediately covered it with her hands, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Amami must’ve noticed, because he frowned. “It’s not like that,” he immediately insisted.

“I mean,” Akamatsu waved her hands frantically. “Sorry, I just-- you seem like the type who, well…?”

“Gets around?” Amami sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t… I’m not into people that way. I don’t do dating, or romance, or...” he scrunched his nose. “Other things…”

_Oh, good, he’s back in-character. _

Shirogane smiled. “Maybe one day we can chat.”

_Or maybe never, if I’m lucky._

Amami… was too kind for his own good. She’d written him as the mysterious character with the Survivor Perk Monopad so that he’d take advantage of it, not so that he’d try to help everyone. How could the show continue if he actually managed to get everyone out of here?

Akamatsu was also dangerous-- piano aside, that pesky leadership ability of hers could derail Shirogane’s entire script. She was too cheerful, too able to get everyone working together. She was too full of--

Whatever. Whatever! Shirogane would get rid of them. The act would continue. The show would go on.

“I have to go meet up with Saihara-kun later,” Akamatsu grinned, “but thank you both! This was fun.”

Shirogane waved shyly. “S-See you later.”

Amami waved as well. “Seeya, Akamatsu-san.”

The door closed.

Amami slowly turned towards Shirogane. 

He pulled up a chair and sat backwards in it, setting his chin into his arms and keeping his gaze fully focused on the girl in front of him.

“So, Shirogane-san,” he began. “What do you remember?”

(It made her head hurt.)

Shirogane got up from her chair, flitting her eyes back and forth. “L-Look,” she said quietly. “I don’t-- I don’t exactly, um-- know what’s got you so curious about me, b-but--” she took a deep sigh. “I--”

“Drop the act,” Amami said calmly. “No offense, but it’s weird hearing you sound like that.”

That startled her. _How did he…?_

_No. Focus. Keep up the act, if even a little bit._

Shirogane stared at him, then finally spoke. “I… I don’t get you,” she said plainly. “You make me nervous. You make my head hurt.” She made her way to the door, then paused. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘remember’. Okay?” _If anything, the person who shouldn’t be remembering anything is you._ “Please don’t try to talk to me anymore.”

And she left, heart still pounding long after the door had closed and she’d walked up the stairs to the main building again.

What the_ fuck _was that? Shirogane’s mind raced. First the Nanokumas had reported to her video bracelet that Saihara found out about the bookshelf, and now Amami was trying to piece together something she didn’t even fully understand…

What did he mean by ‘remember’, anyway?

...Her mind was set. If she wanted Danganronpa to continue, she’d have to kill Amami Rantaro before he ripped her precious show to shreds.

=

Amami was stunned. 

If Shirogane didn’t remember… then who did?

The mastermind should’ve been her. But if she didn’t remember, then--

Who was it?

=

Saihara had spent the rest of his afternoon trying and failing to find Ouma. He’d wanted to ask the other boy if he remembered anything, especially given the conversation they had before breakfast, but the supreme leader was absolutely nowhere to be found.

He let out a huff, deciding to give up for the day. It was almost five, so he had to meet Akamatsu and go to the warehouse. 

They met at the dorms. “Ready?” Saihara asked. Akamatsu nodded, having returned from whatever appointment she’d had earlier. 

“Then let’s go.”

As they walked, Saihara decided to take a page out of Akamatsu’s book and try making conversation. 

“So, Akamatsu-san,” Saihara gulped, hoping that he didn’t sound stupid. “do you think this will work? Trying to catch the mastermind...”

“You can call me Kaede, you know,” she replied, amused. “I think we’re close friends by now, is all.”

Against his will, Saihara blushed. “Ka-- Akamatsu-san, that’s a bit too…”

Akamatsu laughed joyously, and _damn it,_ Saihara blushed harder. “Whenever you’re ready, Saihara-kun!”

(He decided not to point out the way she avoided his question.)

=

They reached the warehouse.

“There’s a lot of stuff in here, so we should be able to find something,” Saihara mused, already wandering in. “Just call for me if you find something, and I’ll do the same.”

“Got it,” Akamatsu gave him a thumbs up.

Saihara blushed a bit, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and walked through the aisles.

Akamatsu decided to walk a bit more slowly, looking near the entryway for anything someone might miss.

A box caught her eye.

There were several shot-put balls in them. She picked one up and winced at the weight. It was heavy, certainly, but it really wasn’t too bad once you got used to it. It was actually small enough to hide in her backpack…

_In fact, _Akamatsu thought, _you could set up a trap with one of these and kill the mastermind right off the bat._

A voice in her head quietly resisted to the thought. _Murder? You’re really going to resort to murder? _

To that, another voice retorted passionately. _Extreme situations call for extreme measures. Saihara-kun was right when he suggested that we might not be able to restrain the mastermind if they’re physically strong. And you’ve been thinking about it for a while..._

The first voice returned. _Even if it’s been on your mind all day,_ _that doesn’t mean--!_

The second voice interrupted._ Forget finding out things like why they did it… If we don’t **kill **the mastermind now, then their game will actually start and it’ll be too late…!_

It was a big decision to make, but somehow… Akamatsu felt like she had made greater decisions before. Something as heavy as life and death-- whether it was her own life, or her friends-- it didn’t feel very far-off from her past experiences.

_Have I done this before?_

Her head seized up in a headache; Akamatsu grit her teeth.

_Either way… More than anything, I want my friends to survive._

She slipped the shot put ball into her backpack, and decided to think of a plan as they continued.

“Akamatsu-san?” Saihara called out; she whirled around, swallowing.

“Oh! Hey. Did you find something?” She willed the tremor out of her voice. 

“Disposable cameras,” Saihara held them up. “I’m already getting an idea of what we can do… hear me out.”

He told her his plan.

“That sounds good,” Akamatsu nodded, regaining all the strength and vigor she had earlier. “I believe we can do it! We’ll catch the mastermind, one hundred percent!” she promised him, clutching her backpack tightly. Saihara brightened up, looking more eager than Akamatsu had ever seen him.

(She felt so, _so_ bad for acting, even if it was partially the truth.)

“If you think my idea with the cameras can work, then it definitely can,” Saihara mused pensively. “I know someone we can ask for help with the technology needed, but…”

“Let’s go there, then,” Akamatsu smiled. “The sooner, the better. We can’t let this time limit beat us!”

_And if I’m lucky, _Akamatsu thought to herself, a new plan already forming in her mind, _we won’t let anything or anyone else try to beat us again._

=

Going directly to beg Iruma for her expertise really wasn’t an idea Saihara favored in principle, but in practice it was a better option than anything else he could think of, considering their time crunch. 

“Wh-- what the fuck are you fucking freaks doing?!” Iruma shrieked, hands retracted sort of like a T-rex. “S-Stop kneeling like that!”

_For someone who talks about being the greatest most beautiful genius on the planet, she really doesn’t take flattery well, does she,_ Saihara thought bemusedly. It was true: Iruma looked more like a squeamish kid cowering away from a mouse than a cocky sex-crazed inventor smugly taking in praise.

“Please,” Saihara repeated, brows upturned to maximize sympathy. He was genuinely pleading, but he figured a little additional emotional appeal wouldn’t hurt. “We could really use your help, Iruma-san.” 

Akamatsu nodded fervently next to him. “This is something that I think only _you_ can do for us, Iruma-san. We’d really be in your debt.”

Like magic, Iruma let down her guard a bit. Though relieved that Iruma would help, part of Saihara couldn’t help but feel strange about how easily Akamatsu was able to get everyone to do her favors. She was _awfully_ persuasive for someone who’d hardly known them all for a week.

But it didn’t matter. Strange though her persuasive abilities were, Akamatsu was a good ally and a good friend above all. It was thanks to her that Saihara was able to get used to this whole situation, and get Iruma on their side for now. He showed Iruma the cameras.

“What sorta dinky shit cameras are these?!” Iruma wrinkled her nose, almost revolted by the ancient technology.

“They’re disposable,” Saihara explained. He paused. “You… you _can_ modify them, right…?”

Not the right thing to say. Iruma looked pissed. She snatched the cameras up. “Of course I can, you absolutely pathetic virgins,” she sneered. She looked at the cameras lovingly, a stark change from her earlier disgust. “I’ll fix up these babies juuuust right, you’ll see. Come back for ‘em tomorrow.”

=

Akamatsu had let Saihara deal with getting the finished products from Iruma the next morning.

It was a tense day. All morning she’d been wondering about whether or not to go through with her own plan-- but eventually, she came to terms with it. She would. Nobody else appeared to have a plan, and even if they did, how likely was it that it would involve the bookshelf?

(It made her feel almost ill.)

Lunch would help, right? Anything would help get her mind off of this. 

Akamatsu made her way to the cafeteria, anticipating Toujo’s wonderful food. A few days and she had already grown accommodated to it.

“What on earth are you saying?!” came an angry yell from the cafeteria.

“I’m telling you, it’s an acceptable way of ending things--”

_Oh, boy, _Akamatsu’s heart sank. _More drama._

“What’s going on?” she asked. The people in the cafeteria-- Amami, Hoshi, Toujo, and Yumeno-- turned to her.

Amami looked absurdly stressed. “Come here, Akamatsu-san,” he let out a disturbing laugh. “Hoshi-kun is saying something totally ridiculous.”

Hoshi let out a ‘hmph’. “It’s a normal suggestion for a situation like this. I don’t get why all of you are being illogical about it.”

“What was the suggestion?” Akamatsu frowned.

“The First Blood Perk is ending soon,” Hoshi explained. His eyes darkened. “So before someone murders someone else, you lot should all sacrifice me and be done with it. All of you get to escape scott-free.”

“And I’m telling you,” Amami interrupted angrily, “that a senseless sacrifice like that right from the start isn’t worth it.”

_Well, this is new,_ Akamatsu blinked in surprise. Amami was cool, calm, and generally mysterious. Sure, he seemed stressed, but he had never lashed out so _angrily_ at anyone before. He was the patient type, the type who’d listen and calmly, kindly try to explain…

_(Wait a minute, _Akamatsu thought, a dull pain aching in her head._ Why do I know something like that?)_

The noise of piano music surged in Akamatsu’s brain. Though she felt inclined to agree with Amami… her headache felt stronger all of a sudden. The others also winced; Yumeno, Hoshi, and Toujo all put a hand to their foreheads.

_It’s almost like he’s speaking from experience..._

“Amami-kun…” Akamatsu paused. “What alternative do you have?”

Amami put his hands on his hips. “Don’t worry about it. I have an idea…”

“Wait for it,” Toujo murmured. Yumeno sighed. Neither of them looked pleased, either.

“...that I can’t tell you,” Amami finished.

Akamatsu blanched. “What? You can’t expect us to go along with a plan that you’re not even sharing...”

“Exactly,” Hoshi pointed out. “Which is why I’m saying that you should all just kill--”

“Hoshi-kun,” Amami snapped, voice frighteningly sharp-- a deep contrast to the forced smile on his face. “There’s no need for you to do that.” His gaze turned terrifyingly dark, nearly manic. “So don’t any of you go off doing anything unnecessary, alright?”

Before anyone could say anything, Amami stormed out of the cafeteria.

The remaining four of them were stunned.

Yumeno’s eyes were wide. “Uhh,” she said. “That… did that just happen?”

Toujo nodded. “I… Quite honestly, I didn’t expect him to lose his composure like that…”

Hoshi scoffed. “What did I tell you? We’re all panicking.” He took out a candy cigarette from his pocket and nibbled on it. “This place is hell, and it’s already affecting us.”

Akamatsu’s thoughts were racing. Whatever Amami was thinking or planning… couldn’t possibly have to do with the library. He said not to interfere, but it couldn’t be the same plan. No way.

Now she was certain. If only to ease everyone’s panic… To help her friends... She’d go on with her decision.

She’d kill the mastermind.

=

That afternoon, Saihara and Akamatsu were setting up the cameras in the bookshelves.

(Or rather, Akamatsu was setting up the cameras and rearranging books on top of the bookshelf, and Saihara was moral support because his anxiety made him feel like it was too late for him to ask if he should offer any physical help.)

Akamatsu was a bit… off, somehow. Maybe Saihara was just overreacting, but she seemed quieter lately. 

_Or you’re just thinking too hard, the way you always do, _the mean voice in his head whispered. _[$%!%--_

_Shut up, _Saihara mentally replied. He did _not _want to deal with that right now.

“Hey,” Akamatsu spoke up again. “It’s not exactly an unusual occurrence, but I did notice…” she tapered off, thoughtful. “Amami-kun was acting weirdly earlier today.” 

As she recollected her story of what Amami said in the cafeteria, Saihara grew more and more confused and concerned.

_What could Amami-kun possibly do about the mastermind? _

But then again, even if Amami was a bit suspicious, and clearly knew something that he refused to elaborate on, he seemed determined to stop the killing game-- not to keep them all in it. 

“Mm… maybe it'll work out with him,” Saihara finally said. “It’s better to listen to him in case his plan involves anything dangerous.”

Saihara expected Akamatsu to agree-- she was their leader, their peacemaker. She was also a good friend. They’d hardly known each other a week since they first arrived at this academy, but… for some reason, Saihara felt certain. He felt like he’d known her way, way longer than that.

Like he’d known her for years…

It should’ve been normal for her to want them all to stay out of each other’s way if they were making a plan. But oddly, she was quiet.

“Yeah,” she finally agreed after a concerningly long pause. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

A shiver went up Saihara’s spine. It didn’t sit right with him, the stilted way her voice sounded.

Not knowing what else to say, they continued setting up in silence.

=

Amami slipped the Survival Perk Monopad in his pocket and closed the door to his Ultimate Lab shut, descending the stairs to go to Momota’s strategy meeting. 

He really wished that he had the others from the previous game with him-- for help, for comfort, for a listening ear, for anything.

_Even if I gave Ouma-kun the password… I can’t trust anyone else in this situation, not when there’s the possibility that any of them could be..._

There were too many variables here for him to take on the killing game alone.

_I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m trying, I want to save them, but I don’t know…!_

Nothing made sense, even though he knew the truth. 

_Shirogane-san doesn’t remember. Who does? Who is the mastermind if not her? And if it actually is her, why was she lying?!_

His mind felt like it would split in two.

_If it isn’t her… then I have to go to that bookshelf and figure out who it really is._

Cold, chilling clarity swallowed all other thoughts. He’d have to do this. Senseless sacrifice or not, he didn’t have another choice if he wanted to end this before any murders happened.

_Please, please, please, everyone, **don’t get in my way.** I refuse to survive as a burden again. I refuse to be pushed around by the mastermind! Even if my sacrifice helped save people in the end, I refuse to let my friends die! I refuse to abandon them to her before I can help them again…!_

=

Later that evening, after dinner, Saihara and Akamatsu went back to the classroom where they’d originally woken up.

They were sitting in the desks. Saihara had been in the middle of explaining how the remote control Iruma made for him was supposed to work when Akamatsu interrupted him.

“Saihara-kun…” she started with a smile, eyebrows upturned. “You’re still tense, aren’t you?”

Akamatsu had been oddly quiet since yesterday, but Saihara didn’t want to let that deter them. Their plan… he still wasn’t all that confident, but he wanted it to work. Yet when she questioned him directly like this… he couldn’t even find it in him to hide.

Saihara paused, then nodded, pulling his hat over his eyes.

“Lemme see your face,” Akamatsu insisted-- though she didn’t try to touch the hat herself, which he was grateful for.

“I--” Saihara’s jaw clenched. “I never told you about this hat, did I…”

Akamatsu shook her head.

“There was a criminal I helped my uncle catch once,” he swallowed. “Back in elementary school… My uncle normally took on infidelity cases, but this was special. There was a man who had been poisoned by his second wife. He had... daughters, I think, from the first wife? Though she died years before, and the daughters were irrelevant to this case...” Saihara winced. The memories were fuzzy…

“Go on,” Akamatsu urged. 

“I… I can’t remember all the details,” Saihara faltered. “Their names and faces… aren’t coming to me. But…” he took in a deep breath. “I managed to find some critical evidence, and we eventually convicted the woman for attempted murder.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Akamatsu tilted her head in confusion.

Saihara shook his head. “The husband was actually a contact involved in a human trafficking ring. He was a scientist who wanted to use people for human experiments.”

Akamatsu’s eyes bulged. “Wha--!”

“I’ll never forget the look of fury on the woman’s face as she got arrested,” Saihara trembled. “All of that anger, directed at me for helping imprison her. She did commit a crime, but his crimes were... much worse. Much more graphic. My uncle told me later, but...” 

“Then what happened?” Akamatsu asked.

“Nothing,” Saihara almost wanted to laugh. “He’d been using forged documents, and his daughters were in on the whole thing. The three of them escaped to somewhere else, and we have no idea of their whereabouts.”

Akamatsu looked gutted. “That’s…”

“I can’t look people in the eye,” Saihara admitted at last, pulling down the brim of his hat again. “The hat was a gift from my uncle, but I can only use it to hide. It’s too scary, seeing them watch me and judge me." He shuddered. "Ever since then, I've been too scared to reveal the truth."

A pause.

Then, he felt a cool, gentle hand on top of his own.

His head whipped up. “Aka--”

“You used your talent for _good,” _Akamatsu insisted with a smile. “Keep your chin up, okay? You deserve more credit than you think. You’re smart and kind and caring. Believe in yourself, Saihara-kun. Your talent is special. _You’re_ special. It’s only been a few days since I first talked to you here, but I can tell you’re an amazing detective.” She took in a deep breath. “Whenever the time comes for you to reveal the truth… don’t be afraid. We’ll all be supporting you.”

Saihara smiled back-- a wobbly smile, but still appreciative nonetheless.

Suddenly, the monitors turned on. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! YOU’RE ALL BORING,” Monokuma shrieked through the screen. 

“You’se pieces of crap think you’re cute, huh?” the blue Monokub stuck out his tongue, clearly trying to imitate his father. “We want death! Gore! Murder in cold blood!”

“Violence is an art, my dear little teenagers,” Monokuma said sweetly. His red eye glowed menacingly. “And your bodies will soon be the Louvre if nobody kills anyone within the next twenty-four hours!”

The monitor turned off.

Saihara rubbed his forehead and sighed. Even _Monokuma _gave him a headache. He looked over to Akamatsu and found her in a similar state. 

Then, a maddening tune filled the room.

Akamatsu shrieked, immediately covering her ears. Saihara himself let out a yell.

The music-- if you could even call it that-- was jarring, grating on the ears. It filled him with anxiety and paranoia and--

(What was the word again?)

“AKAMATSU-SAN,” Saihara yelled over the music, “ARE YOU OKAY?”

“NO!” She yelled back, scrunching her eyes shut. _Right,_ Saihara realized belatedly. _As a musician, her hearing’s more sensitive..._

_Twenty-four hours of this music? It’s enough to make anyone go insane! _Saihara’s nervousness spiked at the thought. 

“WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?” He shouted. 

“SOME OF THEM ARE IN THE MOVIE ROOM,” Akamatsu shouted back. “SOME SHOULD STILL BE IN THE CAFETERIA… AND I THINK MOST OF THE OTHERS ARE WITH MOMOTA-KUN? THEY’RE HOLDING A STRATEGY MEETING TO KILL MONOKUMA!”

_Kill Monokuma? _A decent idea, but the exisals would kill them all if they tried. Saihara didn’t mind not being invited to the conference, but he worried for everyone else. Surely even they weren’t being affected by the music…

Suddenly, the alarm on his remote blared. Saihara nearly dropped it in shock.

“THEY ENTERED THE LIBRARY,” he yelled, immediately setting off for the door. “AKAMATSU-SAN, LET’S GO!”

=

The music almost seemed to quiet a little-- a slow diminuendo. By now it was no longer forte, or even mezzo forte. It was piano.

Piano, meaning soft, so Saihara didn’t really have to shout. But Akamatsu supposed it was alright. He was being considerate, since Monokuma’s noise was only making a racket.

Saihara had run out the door, and Akamatsu got up to follow him to the front of the room. She took the shot put ball out of her backpack and slowly pushed it in to the vent, breath hitching as it rolled in.

“AKAMATSU-SAN, WHAT’S WRONG?” Saihara burst back into the room; Akamatsu nearly jumped several feet.

“You don’t have to yell,” she placed her hand over her chest, steadying her heart. She swallowed. “Sorry; I’m ready now. Let’s go.”

=

Apparently Momota’s Monokuma-killing conference had long since adjourned, because Saihara and Akamatsu saw Momota and Chabashira on their way down to the library.

“Did you guys see someone go in there?” Saihara rushed. _This is the only clue we’ll get!_

Momota frowned. “No?” We let out once that shitty music started, since we couldn’t even hear each other talk… Aside from me and Chabashira, there was Harukawa, Amami, Angie, and Yumeno.”

Saihara furrowed his brows. “I thought your goal was to kill Monokuma?”

Momota beamed. “Yeah, well, Yumeno has magic and Angie has a connection to God and stuff. And the rest of us four are just physically strong.”

Saihara faltered. “H-Huh… I see…”

Chabashira scoffed. “Typical degenerate male thinking, being doubtful of womens’ strength.” She pounded a fist into her palm. “We all have power. If we fought with strength in numbers, we’d be able to crush that robot without question.”

Saihara winced.

“That’s nice,” Akamatsu quipped. “You’re very cute, Chabashira-san.”

Chabashira reddened. “N-No, I’m not…”

“So you guys heard the music too?” Saihara asked, changing the subject. 

Momota nodded. “Heard the announcement and everything. I think if there were monitors around, you were bound to hear it. Amami was in the bathroom, though, so maybe he didn’t…”

“The music’s inescapable,” Chabashira grit her teeth. “No matter where you are, it’s always playing in the background. It’s gotten a bit quieter now, but…”

Saihara shook his head, distracted. “Anyway-- there’s a secret room hidden in a library bookshelf. We set up cameras to catch them as they entered, and the alarm on our remote rang, so we’re on our way there.”

“Hey,” Akamatsu’s clear, suddenly tensed voice cut through their conversation like a knife. “Do you guys hear that?”

Eerie, eerie silence.

“The… The creepy murder music stopped.” Momota said carefully.

“Hey, degenerate,” Chabashira whispered fearfully. She lightly punched Saihara’s shoulder. “I mean you, Saihara. What time is it?”

Saihara brought his wrist up, looking at his watch. “It’s... 9:10 PM.”

The realization hit them all at once like ice water to the face. 

_The music had stopped, but the time limit hadn’t actually ended yet._

“Run,” Momota whispered. Then, he yelled. “RUN! GET TO THE LIBRARY AND CATCH THE BASTARD, NOW!”

They sprinted there, blood coursing through their veins and rushing through their ears, hardly able to talk to each other. Chabashira and Momota frantically pushed the door open; Akamatsu and Saihara ran towards the bookshelf, which was closing shut behind its mysterious master.

“We missed them,” Saihara swore under his breath. He turned to look at the camera placed to the bookshelf’s right.

And he was met with death. 

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'))) rip rantaro
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	4. 1-3. The Truth is Dead, Long Live Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysteries die unsolved.
> 
> Guilt wracks Akamatsu's brain.
> 
> The show, to Shirogane's glee, will go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long (er than usual??) wait! this chapter isn't too long, but I have a lot of school stuff going on, so I couldn't post sooner.
> 
> I've always wondered what Akamatsu was thinking during the body discovery, since her dialogue is purposely written so that we don't realize she believes that she's the culprit. Hence this chapter.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy~

Amami Rantaro’s corpse was on the floor, head lying in an ever-expanding pool of blood. 

Akamatsu was silent, eyes bulging wide. _No… wait, what? This isn’t-- the trap wasn’t meant to--_

Saihara stepped back, horrified. “Ah… Aahh….”

The other two came behind them at last. “Guys, what’s--” Momota froze, breath hitching. At the same time, Chabashira screamed, covering her mouth in terror.

And then a light-toned bell rang.

_“Attention, students! A body has been discovered! Everyone assemble in the library. After a brief period of time, an investigation period will begin. A body has been discovered!”_

A chill ran through the room._ A body. _The weight of the statement had yet to sink into everyone’s skin. 

They were looking at Amami Rantaro’s _dead body._

Just then, a second group of people arrived: Harukawa, Yumeno, Angie, and Gonta.

“IS EVERYONE OKAY--” Gonta came running fastest. He inhaled sharply when he saw the body, letting out a primal yell. “NO! WHO COULD’VE DONE THIS?!”

“Nyahaha, Gonta, calm--” Angie’s eyes widened slightly once she actually saw the body. She took a step back. “--down… Ha… So that’s what that demonic announcement was.”

Yumeno let out a whimpering noise, clutching Chabashira’s sleeve. 

(Harukawa, interestingly, didn’t bat an eye.)

“We must pray for him,” Angie declared immediately. She clasped her hands in devotion. “O God, please grant Rantaro’s soul peace…”

Gonta mimicked Angie. Most of the others didn’t, still too shocked to react. 

Akamatsu’s hands trembled as she prayed. _He was innocent. He wasn’t the mastermind. If he was, then Monokuma wouldn’t have announced it for us to look at--!_

As they were praying, the last wave of people who hadn’t shown up yet had arrived-- Kiibo, Hoshi, Ouma, Toujo, Shirogane, Shinguji, and Iruma.

Ouma’s mouth opened wordlessly, eyes wide for the barest split second. If he did say anything, Akamatsu couldn’t have been able to tell-- Shirogane’s screaming wail covered up all other noise in the library.

_How terrible, Kaede, _a voice in Akamatsu’s head whispered. _Only a few hours ago they were having fun painting nails with you. Amami-kun wanted to chat with Shirogane-san and get to know her better. Shirogane must’ve been playing hard to get, if she’s so upset, and screaming so loudly now that he’s dead. _

_They could’ve hit it off and started something great if you hadn’t--_

“What the fuck?” Iruma whispered in horror, eyes shifting left and right. “Which one of you fuckers did this?!” she demanded, hand on her hip.

Akamatsu bit her lip, silent. Nobody else dared speak either.

Iruma growled. “Even when we all agreed we weren’t gonna do this shit--”

“Does this mean that whatever trials Monokuma mentioned will have to occur?” Toujo interrupted calmly. Or, well, she spoke calmly-- but there was a strange mania, a strange fire in her eyes that Akamatsu couldn’t ignore. 

“Kehehe…” Shinguji laughed, but given how he was trembling, it must’ve been some sort of nervous tic. He shivered quietly. “This is… unacceptable. Humanity must not slaughter each other senselessly like this…” he winced, clutching his head. “Agh… My head hurts…”

Hoshi’s eyes darkened. “H-Huh… It... really came to this…”

Fear swirled in Akamatsu’s head. _Only a few hours ago, Hoshi-kun was wanting to sacrifice himself for all of us..._

“Guys, what’s going--” the moment Kiibo at last pushed through everyone else to look at the body, he yelled sharply, scrunching his eyes shut and crouching down to clutch his head. He let out a long, keening whine. “Aaaah--!” he whimpered, gritting his teeth (did he even have teeth?). “My... head…”

“Kiibo? What’s wrong?” Shirogane asked in concern, placing a concerned hand on his head, briefly pausing as her fingers brushed against his antenna-hair.

_See? Even though Shirogane-san is clearly grieved, she’s helping everyone else. What a good girl. _

_Isn’t that what you wanted to be, Kaede? A good friend who helps others?_

_YOU FUCKING MURDERER--_

“M-My… inner… voice…” he choked out. “Loud, yelling, extreme--”

The others were murmuring amongst themselves. Things like ‘What’s going on with Kiibo?’ or ‘Who murdered Amami?’. Even if plenty of people were silently observing everyone else, like Saihara or Ouma, Akamatsu could hardly bear to listen to it. Instead, she focused her trance-like gaze on Shirogane and Kiibo.

=

“A-Are the voices… speaking? Clamoring?” Shirogane asked softly. “What sorts of feelings are you getting? 

Kiibo barely managed to nod. “Hurt… crying… surprised… Emotional…. overload...”

Shirogane’s glasses gleamed. “I see… They must be anguished.”

_Yeah, anguished that the hot, sexy mysterious guy died before he could even do anything,_ Shirogane nearly snorted. Good that she caught herself before she could let out such an OOC noise.

Her analysis was sound: luckily, Kiibo’s antenna wasn’t suffering any damages. The audience was thoroughly invested, by the looks of it. 

_What an amazing development… the whole tone of the season is set now. _

_We’ll die, and the show will be a success._

=

At last, Monokuma arrived.

“Well, wouldja look at that?” Monokuma smiled. He leaned over Rantaro’s body, then let out a low whistle. “Yup, he’s dead, alright. Great job, murderer!”

Akamatsu winced.

“So, now that all of you are here…” Monokuma beamed. “Who did it? Step right up! The First Blood Perk is all yours, and you’ll get to leave this place, no strings attached.”

Everyone looked at each other. Some accusing, some suspicious, others upset or shocked that anyone would kill. Nobody said a word.

Daunting, angry piano music crescendoed in Akamatsu’s head. The pain from her headache was enormous. The silence was crushing. _It was me. It was me. It was me. It was--_

_I can’t betray them all and take credit for this._

_I can’t…!_

The silence left by her refusal to accept the perk prickled her skin. Goosebumps rose over Akamatsu’s arms. 

At last, the bear sighed. “How ridiculously _bland_ of you… You’re insisting on having a trial, huh? Okay, then!” Monokuma produced a Monopad of his own, pressing a few buttons. “The information for the case is now on all of your Monopads!”

He grinned.

_“Your time to investigate has begun.” _

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter ISN'T actually the investigation. There's another small plot thread I needed to fit in... and the chapter for that should be up in two or three days. I think twice a week is gonna be my schedule for now (?)
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	5. 1-4. Brothers in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time.
> 
> Amami has suffered too much.
> 
> Ouma makes up his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my class is about to start and i have a test later this afternoon but i wanted to get this posted since it's done.
> 
> i never truly understood what had happened regarding this topic in the game... so i made something up that i thought would be cool :p
> 
> hope you all enjoy it!! next time will be the investigation for real.

Ouma Kokichi’s head swum.

Who was it? _Who the fuck was it?_

He wasn’t a very trusting person-- thanks, _Mom-- _but the sudden murder definitely elevated the paranoia he was feeling. His eyes flitted back and forth, scanning everyone’s faces to look for something, _anything,_ that could help him maybe pin it down.

Everyone just… looked shocked. 

_Don’t forget, though,_ Ouma thought to himself. _Even liars can be lied to._

Monokuma had called for the investigation to begin, but… there was quite a bit to consider. Ouma really didn’t know where to start looking-- what could Rantaro have been doing between the time Ouma last saw him and his death? 

His… death….

The Ouma Kokichi from a few hours earlier would never have believed it. 

=

“You’re quite the troublemaker, huh…” Amami chuckled awkwardly. 

He and Ouma were in the garden, somewhere in the middle of the Academy’s cage. It was right after lunchtime. No murders had happened yet, and everyone else was probably exploring the school. 

Ouma himself had just finished exploring the school in its entirety-- well, almost. He hadn’t even been able to _find_ his own Ultimate Lab, much less pick its lock, but other than that, he’d gotten a good look at everything. Those all-nighters had been worth it.

He was just returning from Iruma’s lab when he noticed Amami storm out of the cafeteria with a scary look on his face. Thinking he’d calm down the other boy a bit, Ouma decided to chat him up. 

Ouma snickered. “And you’re such a cryptic guy!” 

It was true; Amami was hard for Ouma to pin. Him and Saihara both. And yet, they both gave him those memory headaches… The smell of antiseptic was stronger whenever Ouma was around them-- surely at one point in the past, they’d had something to do with each other.

Ouma put his hands over his mouth, feigning shock. “Don’t tell me, are you the mastermind?!”

“Really...? I don’t think I come off that way,” Amami replied, though it was a more mild response than Ouma would have liked, especially coming from someone who was arguably the most suspicious of them all. From what Ouma had seen, Amami’s lab was just as mysterious as he was. Ouma hummed.

They stood in silence. _Awkward_ was what this was-- neither fully trusted the other, so neither was speaking up.

“What_ is_ your talent anyway?” Ouma broke the silence. Curiosity had won over him after all. He knew that the other boy had been lying when he said he forgot what his talent was, but he hadn’t been planning on asking for the truth outright. Normally, Ouma would’ve stubbornly tried to figure it out alone. But there was just something so_ familiar_ about the other boy...

(Regardless, he needed to pry as much out of this so-called_ ‘amnesiac’ _as he could. If Ouma himself didn’t have an Ultimate Lab, didn’t that mean that everyone here was out to get him?)

Amami cleared his throat. “I don’t--”

“No trying to bullshit me here, mystery man,” Ouma dropped his voice. “I can tell that you’re lying about forgetting your past.”

Amami gaped at him. Then, he let out a small chuckle. “Figures that you’d be the one to read me fastest,” he shook his head. “‘cept for maybe… Nah, whatever. The situation’s different now.”

_What is he talking about? _

“Tell me everything you remember,” Ouma stepped closer towards him, intentionally making a terrifying face. “Or else I’ll kill you.”

That should’ve done it-- Amami did look startled for a stark second-- but then he completely subverted Ouma’s expectations.

He started laughing.

=

Normally, Amami only laughed uncontrollably when he was scared, but this was really too funny to not laugh at.

How many times had people threatened him and his memories with death by now?

=

He was still laughing.

Ouma bristled. “Cut that out, I’m serious.” 

Amami struggled to breathe, tears of mirth breaking through. “I-- sorry, I just--” he clutched his sides. “That’s the most straightforward I’ve ever seen you ask for anything-- and you look like a _demon--”_

Oh, so it wasn’t a mocking laugh.

...Was Amami the type to laugh when he was scared?

“Maybe I will kill you! And maybe I won’t,” Ouma continued, though he was still a bit shaken up by the unexpected response. “I’ve already searched the school for all the unlocked areas, and of them all, your lab is the most suspicious.”

This time it was Amami’s turn to be startled. “You saw it? From the inside?”

_Yeah._ “Nooope, that was a lie!”

Amami placed his hands on his hips. “Come on now, you can’t tell me not to lie and then expect me to actually do it when you won’t do the same.”

_What an irritating guy, _Ouma thought. But at the same time, he was oddly comforted by his presence-- oddly allured by the mystery of Amami Rantaro.

“Don’t use the older sibling voice on me, I’d know it anywhere,” Ouma wrinkled his nose. (_Ironic,_ he thought, _since according to the Monopads I’m older than him by a little over three months. If we were born the same year, at any rate._) “You can’t make me do anything.”

Suddenly, Amami looked like a Christmas tree, completely lighting up at the mention of siblings; it was like whiplash. “Oh, right, you have siblings too! Older or younger?”

_What’s with that phrasing…? But at any rate, he remembers having siblings… If I want any information out of him, I need to actually…_

“Younger,” Ouma muttered truthfully.

Amami’s eyes positively sparkled. “So do I,” he said, a little bit too wistfully for Ouma’s comfort. “How many, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Whoops, Amami-chan! You can’t ask two questions in a row, that’s breaking the rules!” Ouma shifted the topic. “Sheesh, you sure are useless, aren’t you? How can you not even know how to play twenty questions?” 

“If you don’t like being interrogated, then you can say so,” Amami replied sweetly. “But if that’s not the case, then my bad. I didn’t realize we were even playing.”

Everything in Ouma’s mind was screaming at him to leave and go do something else before Amami could find out something to use against him, but Amami was just too interesting. Mysterious to a fault, but could still somehow read Ouma like a damn book.

...How did Amami know this much about how to handle him when they’d supposedly just met?

“So if we’re playing,” Amami spoke up again, “that means it’s your turn to ask a question. Fire away.”

Now that Ouma looked at him properly… Amami had darker bags around his eyes than Ouma had initially realized. He looked pretty enough to be a model, and he definitely had a strangely charming way with words, but he was tired and worried about this killing game too-- or so it seemed.

“How many siblings do you have?” Ouma asked. _Might as well start with what I know he should remember before I actually get to what I want._

“Twelve,” Amami didn’t miss a beat.

Ouma startled. “Wha--” _Wait a sec, he’s not even lying. What the hell?_

Amami put a sheepish arm behind his neck. “My dad’s kinda wealthy, and he’s gotten married several times over, so I have twelve younger sisters.” He paused. “Oh, but it’s nothing dramatic-- whether they’re my biological sisters or my step-sisters, I think of them all the same way.”

_What a doting big brother_, Ouma thought in disgust. 

“So,” Amami placed a finger on his chin, thinking. “Right back at you! How many siblings do you have?”

...But Ouma would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t the same way himself.

“...Nine,” he mumbled. “Adopted, but we’re siblings just the same. They’re just some of my many subordinates.” _Yeesh,_ when did he get so soft?

He cautiously looked Amami in the eye. _Yup, still a pretty face._ The little personality Amami showed was enough to make Ouma want to be around him even more, if only to uncover more of his tics. 

Unfortunately for both of them, Ouma had a mission in mind, and not enough patience in him to wait for someone to take advantage of the First Blood Perk.

“Who are the people in your lab?” he asked sharply. Cutesy friendship and bonding time was over.

Amami blinked. “Uh…?”

“There are photos of people in your lab,” Ouma pressed accusingly. “Sepia-toned and framed on the wall with ribbons over them like they’re funeral portraits. I got those memory headaches looking at them, so I know it’s part of something I’ve forgotten._ Who are they?_”

At this point, Ouma was mere inches away from Amami’s face. “Your lab is even more mysterious than you are. I didn’t have time to investigate it last night because I had to get back to my dorm room, but of everyone else’s, it’s by far the most suspicious.” _Ah, crap,_ he was totally just spilling everything to Amami. But whatever-- even if Amami were the mastermind, that just means that Ouma had caught him. 

Amami swallowed thickly, trying to look neutral but in really considerably more nervous looking than before. _He’s sweating_, Ouma realized. 

_He knows something about the killing game._

“I haven’t been to my lab yet,” Amami answered honestly. “So I haven’t seen these pictures you’re talking about… but can you describe the people to me?”

An odd request, but far from undoable. 

“Let’s see… A boy with dark hair. A girl with some know-it-all smile. Another boy with wild eyes, a girl with a scar… blah, blah, et cetera, and so on and so forth.” Ouma looked up to gauge Amami’s reaction. “Sound famili--”

Amami turned absolutely rigid.

“--ar?”

He was pale as a sheet, eyes so wide Ouma thought they might leap out of his sockets any second. Ouma’s gaze flitted to the rest of Amami’s body; his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Ouma furrowed his brows. _PTSD symptoms…?_

Amami chuckled awkwardly, placing a hand near his mouth; strike two, now that Ouma knew Amami laughed like that when he was scared. He bit his lip. “Um… Can you take me there? I need to see it for myself before I… do anything.”

What did Ouma have to lose? Aside from his life, obviously. Amami could be trying to lead him into a trap… But they were already alone, and if Amami really wanted to hurt him, he’d have done it by now.

Maybe trusting people wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe taking a liking to people… wouldn’t be so bad.

“Follow me.”

=

Trusting someone, Amami thought, would be the worst thing possible.

The last game was a different story-- he was scared out of his mind, rightfully so. Too many scarring things happened back then, far too many. Sure, maybe he was right to place his trust in the others by the end, but now was a new case. He didn’t know how many of them were actually on his side, or may have turned...

(Funnily enough, both times, the mastermind was having him keep his mouth shut about the truth.)

So when he asked Ouma to take him to his lab, he realized with a start that he was trusting Ouma’s account completely. Maybe Ouma was lying about seeing his lab, the way Monokuma lied about erasing his memories back then. After all, even if Ouma was a supreme leader who could easily get his way around (and knew how to pick locks), Amami was the only one with the Survivor Perk Monopad to show him all the hidden parts of the building.

Maybe Ouma was testing him, the way _she_ preyed on his emotional responses in the last game. Amami wouldn’t be surprised if he was just another experimental pawn again.

This time around, he had to take more charge. He couldn’t be shoved around like a scared little bug in a box, scuttling around, desperate to avoid being squished. He couldn’t be too emotional, either. _Letting people know how you feel will just let them take advantage of you, and kill your resolve further._

But for all the lies Ouma said, for all he trickster imagery Ouma tried to evoke, he was still a genuinely good person deep down. Amami knew that. Amami could _feel _that, talking to him right this moment.

Ouma narrowed his eyes, wary but not entirely distrustful-- and with a hint of something else in his eyes that Amami hesitated to identify. “Follow me.” 

Amami already knew his way there, of course-- Survivor Perk Monopad-- but he played dumb a bit and dutifully followed, even waiting obediently as Ouma picked the lock.

Red, red, red. The door was bloody; the room inside even moreso. It was a room of blood red: red roses, red walls, red and black and golden of everything, frames suspended from the ceiling, mysterious and simultaneously gruesome to the point that Amami wanted out_ immediately._

He noticed a gigantic vault with two wheels, presumably acting as a password. _So this is where Monokuma put the USB recording._ But what was the point of the recording if his memories were still intact…? Amami carefully pored his eyes over the details, and then was met with the photographs on the walls. 

A boy with dark hair. A boy with wild eyes. A girl with some know-it-all smile. A girl with a scar.

And every other picture, all individual people with quirks and aspects of appearance and personality that he recognized with sad, sad clarity, even through the X’s over their faces.

It was them. 

It was them it was them it was them it was them it was them it was them it was them it was them it was them it was--

Damn that bear and everyone else for mocking him like this. The deceased from the last killing game, all staring at him, staring at the survivor, as if provoking the question: _why was it you who lived?_

Against his will, tears sprung from his eyes.

“Amami-chan?” Ouma asked quietly. Amami frantically rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.

“Yes?”

“Tell me…” He looked conflicted, picking his next words carefully. “Have these killing games happened before?”

Ouma looked blank-faced, but Amami could see the wince Ouma was holding back, and the way his nose wrinkled. Maybe… he was getting a headache? Maybe this was triggering his memories of--

Amami smiled wearily. “Sorry, Ouma-kun, but I can’t explain the truth to you. “Not… Not yet. But…” He looked at the portraits again. “Thank you for showing this to me.”

Ouma looked unconvinced. “....Anytime, Amami-chan. I think we’re friends, after all.” He appeared rather confused about everything-- more precisely, he looked like he wanted to figure things out.

Amami chuckled into his hand. “You _think_ we’re friends…” He paused. “...You can call me Rantaro.”

Ouma whirled his head around, slightly surprised. “Oh? I didn’t know we were on first-name basis now!” he grinned, a slight pink dusting his cheeks. 

...Ouma was just as much of a mystery as he himself was, Amami decided. _As always._

“I have a plan to confront the mastermind,” Amami admitted, walking around to see the rest of the room. _A closet with survivor rations, huh… how annoyingly, ironically fitting. _

“Are you willing to tell me?” Ouma asked, sitting on one of the chairs, swinging his legs back and forth and picking at his nails. It was kinda refreshing to hear this kind of honesty from him.

Refreshing, but still weird.

“I don’t want anyone else interfering, including you, so I won’t say what it is,” Amami continued. “But…” he made his way back to the vault, and noticed that it said, in small but bright red letters: SET PASSWORD.

_‘Ouma’_ was written with the kanji for ‘king’ and ‘horse’, wasn’t it?

“When’s your birthday, Ouma-kun?” he asked, nonchalantly twisting the A part of the passcode to the horse. 

“Novembruary 53, why?” 

Amami actually turned his head back to give Ouma a disapproving look. “...If you’re gonna be difficult, I’ll just check my Monopad.”

Ouma yawned. “Don’t waste your time, it’s June 21.”

_That means... Gemini, huh_… Even more fitting. He twisted the B dial. The password was set.

“Don’t forget your birthday, yeah?” Amami said cryptically. “Or your name. Just in case things go sour for me.” 

“I have no_ earthly_ clue what you’re talking about, Rantaro.”

Amami turned to him. Ouma was hard to read, but certainly not _that_ hard if you looked closely at him. He looked cheerful, certainly, and bored-- the naivete and easily changeable emotional range of a child. But at the same time, he was constantly on his toes. His brain never seemed to stop. 

He wanted out of this killing game just as much as Amami did. 

“We won’t be able to talk like this all the time, you know,” Amami said. “Not with the mastermind watching. That’s why I’d like for you to find out the truth behind this killing game. Trust whoever you can and piece everything together in the event that something happens to me. Figure it all out and end it.”

Ouma jumped down from his position sitting on the table and frowned at him. “You’re the one who already knows everything. Why should I do that?”

Amami smiled knowingly. “It’s less boring for you that way, isn’t it?”

Ouma pursed his lips; Amami knew he hit bullseye.

“Maybe so!” Ouma said. “Fair enough,” he acknowledged. “I’ll do it.”

Amami looked around warily. “I don’t know if there are cameras in here… it’s meant to be locked, and there are still unfinished parts outside here, so maybe not, but we can never be too careful.” He turned to Ouma. “Let’s get out of here for now. I’ll follow you after a few minutes.”

Ouma shrugged at that and walked out.

Amami breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, Ouma had agreed to end the killing game.

He looked around again. Ouma’s smart, after all; he’d definitely realize he had to come back here at some point. And he’d remember the vault’s password, so he’d find the USB without any trouble if anything bad happened… 

Amami opened a drawer and finally found the laptop. _Bingo._

He took it out and placed it on the table, then took a cursory glance at the lab. _Just in case… this should be enough._

_Time to go to Momota-kun’s strategy meeting… and time for me to put my plan into action._

Amami clicked the door to his lab shut, instantly locking it, clutching his Survivor Perk Monopad in his pocket as he made his way down.

=

Seeing Rantaro's bloody corpse-- and that too, hardly a few hours after Rantaro told him to uncover the full truth in case something happened to him-- made Ouma's blood run cold. 

Luckily for him, Shirogane's drawn out scream covered up his own strangled cry.

_Rantaro, Rantaro, Rantaro. _The one person with the key to everything about this game, the one person Ouma trusted and maybe even loved a little bit despite knowing him for such a short period of time, gone just like that. All those secrets, now dissipated into dust.

Not that Ouma could let anyone else know about it. Everyone was a suspicious candidate now. He clenched his fist by his side, mentally vowing not to make the same mistake again: _trust no-one, and make sure nobody can tell how you really feel._

Ouma Kokichi would end this killing game. He had to.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') so many mysteries...
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	6. 1-5. Investigation/Machination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara wonders internally; Akamatsu pretends externally.
> 
> Kiibo asks; Shinguji answers.
> 
> Shirogane is an actor; Ouma is a planner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I was able to post this on time hhhhHHH investigations hard. I had to go to the wiki to make sure I covered everything for this chapter and the trial...
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter~ and that my sense of humor isn't, like, totally stupid. lol

Saihara swallowed. “In… Investigate, huh.”

He wasn’t stupid. As the Ultimate Detective, he’d be the one trusted to figure things out.

He walked to the corpse and crouched down, grimacing as he gently touched Amami’s face. It was cold. Not yet sallow, since it had hardly been a few minutes since the body discovery announcement, but cold.

“Blunt force trauma…?” Momota spoke aloud. 

Saihara whipped his head around. “Huh?” 

Momota waved his Monopad. “Check yours. There’s a buncha details in here about… about what killed him.”

Saihara took out his Monopad and swiped to unlock it. Sure enough, there was plenty of information:

**VICTIM:** AMAMI RANTARO

**AGE: **[REDACTED]

**SEX: **[REDACTED]

**GENDER:** M

**LOCATION OF DEATH: **LIBRARY (CAMPUS FLOOR: UNDERGROUND)

**CAUSE OF DEATH:** BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO HEAD

**TIME OF DEATH: **9:10 PM

**KILLER: **[REDACTED]

_So age, biological sex, and the murderer’s identity are all known information to Monokuma and the mastermind, but it’s classified and hidden from the rest of us…? Interesting. _Saihara made a mental note about it. _At the very least, if I ever get murdered, I can maintain my privacy…_

He shook the utterly morbid thought out of his head.

Saihara swiped. There were multiple photographs of the body discovery scene and diagrams of the death as well. He furrowed his brows. _So Amami-kun had been hit in the right-hand side of his head, near the top but sort of on the side, or the back… _

He turned, looking to the offending weapon: a bloody shot-put ball. It had rolled a considerable distance from Amami’s corpse, leaving a small, drying trail of blood up to where it was currently located.

Saihara noted Amami’s position. _A loose, fetal position… And his body is facing right._

“S-Saihara-kun?” Akamatsu interrupted. Saihara snapped out of his reverie. Akamatsu let out a shaky sigh and smiled. “Sorry, just-- are you alright?”

Saihara blinked, confused. “Yes? I’m just investigating the body right now...”

Akamatsu looked relieved all of a sudden. “You were breathing kinda shallowly, so I was worried.”

“Ah…” Saihara smiled at her. “Thank you. But really, I’m alright. We need to focus on figuring this case out…”

Akamatsu faltered. “I… Yeah, I get it. We should all get a look at the body now, and then split up to investigate the rest…”

_She’s acting weird..._

“So, Mister Detective,” Ouma crouched down with a grin, propping his chin with his arm. “Did you figure anything out yet?”

Saihara’s head hurt again.

** _be quiet and hide_ **

** _the lights_ **

** _why is this happening to_ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

Saihara bit his lip, quiet. There was a lot to take in. Too much information, too much-- not to mention, all the blood, and the fact that Amami was permanently dead--

Ouma waved a hand in front of Saihara’s face. “Saihara-chan?”

Saihara snapped out of it. “Aah! Y--” he turned to Ouma. “Yes?”

Ouma tilted his head, then grinned. “You seem kinda batshit when you investigate.”

Saihara flushed. “Huh?”

“Y’know, like--” Ouma put his hands to his eyes and forced them wider, like an owl. “Your eyes get all wide, your breathing’s all shallow, and the way you stare at the crime scene is like you’re gonna eat it whole.”

_‘IT’S THAT CHILD’S FAULT!’ the woman had screamed, thrashing in the officer’s arms as she was being arrested. ‘THAT PROBING GAZE WAS LOOKING INTO MY SOUL! IT WAS INVASIVE! IT WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE ANYONE SQUIRM AND CONFESS TO THINGS THEY DON’T MEAN--’_

Saihara sighed. _Stop thinking about that._ He stood up again.

“What now, Saihara-chan?” Ouma asked inquisitively, getting up along with Saihara and holding out a Monopad. “I pickpocketed Rantaro, if you’re curious. The only thing he had was this Monopad in his pocket.” 

_Pickpocketing the dead is actually grave robbing, and it’s very illegal, but I’ll pretend you didn’t say anything, Ouma-kun. _“Really?” Saihara asked. “There wasn’t anything else, like…” he trailed off. “A key card, maybe...?”

Ouma shook his head, grinning. “Oh, of course not! You see, he also had a pack of gum, ten thousand lovingly hand-crafted knives, a Hunter’s License that allows him to hunt Chimera Ants, and…”

_Man, why did I even ask…_ Saihara ignored him, looking up. The camera and bookshelf had blood on them, too. The camera had been placed around Amami’s head-level, so that made sense.

Ouma trailed off, standing up as well and emptying out his own pockets. All that was there was a thick black journal and a pen. “Anyway, Rantaro didn’t have anything like some dinky key card in his pockets. I don’t have any other stuff of his, and he doesn’t either. You can verify that yourself.” 

It was true; Ouma had nothing else that might've belonged to Amami. The journal, though... it made Saihara feel nostalgic. _If only I had the diary my uncle gave me after middle school graduation… Writing would probably give me some peace._

Ouma got up on his tip-toes and took the camera off, inspecting it carefully. “Now what’s this?”

Saihara blanched. “Ah, that’s--”

“Saihara-kun and I set up cameras in here,” Akamatsu spoke up. She held her chin high. “We had a plan to catch the mastermind.”

“R-Really?” Shirogane asked. 

Akamatsu nodded. “One camera there, one by the front entrance, and one by the side entrance. They were set up to be triggered by any detected movement. Lemme explain…”

Akamatsu explained the plan to the others, all of whom were listening intently. Saihara interjected here and there to correct her or supplement the explanation with more details.

“And so,” Akamatsu finished, “these cameras we set up should’ve taken a bunch of photos of the mastermind.”

“What a novel idea,” Toujo praised. “I admire you both for taking initiative to get us all out of here.”

Akamatsu laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, Toujo-san…”

“The cameras could’ve also taken pictures of Amami-kun’s killer,” Saihara mused. “I-If they happen to be two different people, I mean…”

“Then the fuck are you waiting for?!” Iruma boasted. “Go see if the photos can be developed now! That slutty pink bear said she’d do it… Ugh, what was her name… Stephanie?”

Shirogane shook her head. “No, it has to have Mono in front of it. Mono Funny, maybe?”

Kiibo frowned. “Surely it can’t be that ordinary… I believe she shared a name with that iconic American singer-songwriter. Gwen Stefani, right?”

Angie tapped her chin. “Perhaps it’s the same name as God’s great copycat painting made by his vessel, Leonardo da Vinci… my favorite, the Mona Phony.”

The four hummed, deep in thought.

Chabashira whacked Kiibo on the back of his head, ignoring his yelp. “Knock it off, degenerate,” she sneered. She then lovingly patted Iruma, Shirogane, and Angie on the shoulder. “Please focus on the investigation,” she requested sweetly. “We don’t have time to be thinking about those stupid bears’ names.”

“The robophobia of it all,” Kiibo narrowed his eyes in disgust, rubbing his head.

“I’d say it’s misandry, actually,” Momota stroked his chin. “Or maybe androphobia…?”

“Guys, stop that,” Akamatsu rolled her eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to the warehouse, fast! That way Monophanie can get the photos ready.”

=

They arrived at the warehouse with the cameras, and as promised, Monophanie got the photos developed. She handed them over to Akamatsu.

Ouma bit his thumb. “Man, this whole trial’s probably gonna be boring, since the mastermind’s been photographed.” He grinned, somewhat sinister. “I can’t wait to see the stupid look on their face.”

Saihara was inclined to agree. Whoever had murdered Amami was really only driving themself into a corner by doing this.

They all crowded around the photos. “Let’s look at the ones from the bookshelf first,” Akamatsu said. “There are three.”

Amami opening the bookshelf. A closeup of Amami with one hand outstretched to the camera and the other hand holding a Monopad. A completely black picture.

“Huh?” Saihara furrowed his brows. “Why’s this one…”

“P-Probably the blood, don’t you think?” Shirogane piped up. “If I remember correctly, the lens and most of the rest of the camera were all covered in it…”

Grim silence. She was right-- the blood had probably covered up whatever picture of the killer there could’ve been.

“W-Well, I mean--” Shirogane stammered, pointedly looking at her shoes. 

“Nyeh… She could be wrong,” Yumeno suggested. “Like, maybe the killer covered it up with their hands…”

“But if they did that, there wouldn’t have been bloodstains on the lens when the body was discovered later,” Hoshi pointed out. He sighed. 

“Shirogane was right,” Harukawa sniffed in disinterest. “It’s more likely to be blood.”

“...Let’s look at the next batch,” Akamatsu decided. “There are two from the side entrance.”

A closeup photo of Saihara’s face, angled from a ladder. A photo of Amami entering. 

“Ah… that probably went off without me knowing it when I set the cameras up,” Saihara’s face burned a bit. He pulled his cap lower. “Sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Akamatsu reassured him, though she sounded a bit more unsure. “The last batch is from the front entrance. If we didn’t see the photos from the side entrance, the mastermind had to have come in from there!”

The front entrance with the first group of people running into the library-- Momota, Chabashira, Akamatsu, and Saihara. The front entrance with the second group of people-- Gonta, Harukawa, Yumeno, and Angie. The front entrance with the last group of people-- all the others minus Amami.

There was nothing else.

Everyone tensed. The photos were a bust… they had no clue who the mastermind was based off of any of these.

“There were some other photos, too,” Monophanie said. “From Iruma-san’s drone--”

“Gimme _that,” _Iruma snatched the photos, scanning for details. She tsked. "Nothing in here that gives us clues to the mastermind, but..." she beamed. “This could help in other ways if we inspect it closer. Thanks, Pinky.”

“I’m Monophanie,” the bear frowned indignantly; she went ignored.

“You made a drone?” Kiibo asked curiously. “When?”

“That doesn’t matter, I’m a gorgeous genius and we’ve been here a week and anything is possible,” Iruma waved away the question. “And we’ve been here a week. But if this helps you virgins with the investigation, then here, go ahead and take a look.”

Saihara peered at it. As Iruma had said, there wasn't anything there that pointed to the mastermind. It was a photo of an aerial view of the library._ Neat._

“Well, either way… None of these photos tell us who the mastermind is,” Akamatsu said, a strange lilt in her voice. She set the photos in her hand to the side. “And since that’s the case… we need to investigate in earnest. The trial will be soon…” 

Saihara narrowed his eyes, suspicious. But nobody else appeared to think it was odd of her to do that, because they all nodded in agreement.

“Disperse, then,” Momota declared. “We’ll split up and investigate. Get whatever evidence you guys can!” He pumped a fist into his open palm, letting out a resounding _smack._ “We’ll catch the mastermind like _that.”_

=

And so everyone went their separate ways.

Quite some time had passed since the investigation had started. Monokuma had never specified how long each investigation period would be, but surely it couldn’t be longer than the hour and a half or so they’d already been walking around...

Kiibo had been doing his own brand of investigating. He’d gotten quite a bit of progress-- while everyone else was looking for things related to the murder weapon and location, he’d been investigating the people.

_Toujo-san and Iruma-san said that they were in the cafeteria with Shinguji-kun and Shirogane-san, but I haven’t talked to the latter two… _

_Ouma-kun said he was in the library “bashing in my beloved Rantaro’s head”, but that’s definitely a lie..._

_Hoshi-kun said he was alone in his dorm room, but I was also doing that, so I can’t be too suspicious of him…_

_Yumeno-san, Harukawa-san, Angie-san, Chabashira-san, and Momota-kun were all at the strategy meeting the whole time. Amami-kun had left in the middle. Gonta-kun had also been in the strategy meeting, but then left to go to the movie room. Once the meeting dispersed, Yumeno-san, Angie-san, and Harukawa-san went to the movie room to see what Gonta-kun was up to, and Chabashira-san and Momota-kun were in the hallway outside the library, which corroborates their alibis and goes in line with those photos…_

_Gonta-kun was in the movie room with the other girls the whole time up til the body discovery announcement, so he’s clear..._

_Chabashira-san complained that she’d wanted to go with Yumeno-san, but Momota-kun dragged her away, saying that they had to stay in pairs at minimum in case they met Monokuma and had to fight him..._

It was tiring, actually. Was this what Saihara’s life was like as a detective? Er, apprentice detective? Kiibo didn’t like the idea of putting his friends under this much scrutiny. Truth aside, he wanted them to be able to trust each other.

As he was thinking, he wandered back into the warehouse. There, he noticed Shinguji. Kiibo’s eyes lit up. “Shinguji-kun! Do you have a minute?”

Shinguji nodded, walking over. “Yes?”

“I’m going around interviewing everyone for statements about where they were,” Kiibo explained. “For the sake of keeping up with privacy laws, I’m required to let you know that you’re being voice recorded. So, Shinguji-kun, where were you before and during the murder?”

“Kehehe… Iruma-san, Toujo-san, Shirogane-san, and I were all in the cafeteria the whole time,” Shinguji tilted his head. “Ah, Shirogane-san left sometime in between to go to the bathroom, but as for the other two, they were with me the whole time.”

“I see,” Kiibo nodded, turning off the recording function. “That’s in line with what Toujo-san and Iruma-san told me, so you’re in the clear.” 

He sighed. "Now, for a more private question… May I ask you how your mask works?” Kiibo rocked on his feet, poking the tips of his fingers together sheepishly. “Like, when eating. I never see you in the cafeteria, since I tend to eat after everyone else…”

Shinguji blinked, then unzipped the zipper on his mask.. “Like that.”

Kiibo gaped. “Really? That’s it? I thought that was just a decoration…”

Shinguji let out a snort, zipping it back. “I got self-conscious about my mouth. People said I smiled weirdly or that I had a 'scary resting bitch face’, and that… well...”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” Kiibo said sincerely. He turned around. “And sorry to cut this short, but I need to go interview the others!”

“Good luck,” Shinguji waved. “I shall explore the warehouse some more. The shot put ball itself is indeed a mystery…”

_That’s eleven interviews down,_ Kiibo thought. _Plus myself makes twelve. And Amami-kun doesn’t count anymore, so there’s only three people left to talk to… Akamatsu-san, Saihara-kun, and Shirogane-san._

He ignored the spike in pain around his head and continued searching.

=

Truthfully, Ouma was still feeling rather odd about one of the photographs taken by the cameras. 

He’d finished looking around the movie room, and decided to chat up Gonta._ There’s not much here… and this conversation’s boring, too. He’s too nice and stupid to be able to keep a murder secret. Unless he somehow got memory loss, but that’s unlikely…_

He just couldn’t shake that odd feeling away. Why was Amami holding his Monopad in the picture, and why did he put it in his _pocket_ right before he was killed? That had to be what happened since, right? They found his Monopad in his pocket after his death, but it was out in his hand in the photo. When and why did he put it inside? 

Saihara and Akamatsu were also in the movie room, inspecting the movies. They must’ve come across something pervy or weird, because their faces were suddenly red.

Ouma huffed quietly. He wasn’t sure where the urge was coming from, but he wanted to just grab Saihara by the hand and yank him somewhere else.

_...Why am I so attached to him?_

He ignored the headache and made his way to the sliding door. “What is thIS--” he grunted, trying his hardest to push and shove the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Even with all its effort, it was jammed.

Gonta sighed. “It’s stuck really hard, isn’t it? Gonta tried, but it wouldn’t open much more than that.”

Hearing that, Ouma felt slightly better about his minimal strength. He was lean, and not at all into exercise for the sake of it, but he’d had his fair share of athletic ventures.

...He didn’t want to think of the past right now.

“SAIHARA-CHAN, AKAMATSU-CHAN!” he yelled out suddenly, as loud as humanly possible. “WHAT’S THE MATTER?” He gasped theatrically, hand over his chest. “OMIGOSH, EW, DID YOU TWO FIND_ PORN_ OR SOMETHING--”

“OUMA-KUN,” the two of them and even Gonta all yelled at him, equally red enough that they looked like poppable balloons. Ouma laughed, taking in the delicious embarrassment of their sputtering excuses.

_Don’t get used to it, Kokichi._

_There was a murder. You are all trapped. You need to suspect everyone, because they’re all out to get you eventually._

He kept up the cheery, bratty smile anyway, narrowing his eyes at the people around him.

_I’ll play the long con with this facade of mine as long as I need to._

=

_Someone needs to gag him, _Saihara decided at last. _For the sake of the public good, Ouma Kokichi should be permanently gagged. Iruma-san’s a pervert, and her lab is open, so maybe she has something that would--_

“Hm…” Akamatsu hummed; Saihara snapped out of his thoughts. _Right, investigation. I can’t let myself get distracted when something so serious is going on…_

He frowned. It was weird, how nonchalant she was acting. Akamatsu was doing such a good job of leading them before the murder, so why was she being so lax about investigating now…? Saihara had assumed that she’d be even more determined to catch the killer, but that wasn’t the case.

What was going on with her?

Why was she acting so strangely today?

Before Saihara could think on it further, a bell tone rang.

_Attention, students! The investigation period has ended. Please make your way to the fountain in the courtyard to go to the trial room. The investigation period has ended!_

Saihara, Akamatsu, Gonta, and Ouma all looked at each other.

“It’s time,” Akamatsu breathed shakily.

“Shall we go?” Gonta asked.

Ouma yawned.

Saihara stayed quiet. _Our friend was murdered, and we have to find out the identity of his killer. _

_I’m scared. I’m nervous._

_But in this class trial… I’ll have to do my best if I want to keep everyone alive._

Saihara nodded at last. “Let’s go.” 

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next TWO chapters will be the trial, and they will BOTH be posted at the same time, one right after the other on the same day. Look forward to it!! 
> 
> All aboard the angst express... Choo choo.............. .. sobs
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!  
[my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	7. 1-6. My Class Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirogane has a close call.
> 
> Akamatsu takes a deep fall.
> 
> Saihara's silence damns them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE. this is the first half of the trial, with the second half also being posted today.
> 
> me: it's the trial so i better write angst  
a magical fairy, descending from the sky: what if,,, you wrote stupidity. stupid, comical, senseless jokes.

Everyone arrived on time. Even though it was dark outside, practically nighttime, it was hard to miss the place, since there were muscular statues of Monokuma on the big wall right behind the fountain. 

It was quiet, save for the noise of Hoshi nibbling on a candy cigarette. Nobody wanted to think of the truth: that one of them had killed Amami, and that they were all about to go to some sort of trial to determine life or death for everyone.

“S-So…” Momota spoke up. “Now what?”

Just as he said that, the Monokuma statue rumbled. It disappeared beneath the ground, and revealed an elevator behind it.

The candy cigarette fell out of Hoshi’s mouth. “Uh… did that just…”

“Someone pinch me,” Yumeno furrowed her brows. Chabashira obliged her; Yumeno yelped and smacked Chabashira’s hand.

_This whole situation really makes me feel like I’m having a long, detailed stroke,_ Saihara decided wearily. 

“I don’t think we have a choice...” Akamatsu murmured. “Let’s go in, everyone.”

So they did. 

=

The descent to the trial room was just as quiet as their congregation outside, save for the clacking, creaking, quivering noises of the elevator as it shuttled them downwards.

(And to Akamatsu, the noise of her thumping, quickening heartbeat, tempo frantic from panic and guilt.)

At last, the elevator stopped. The doors opened, revealing the trial room.

It was… freakishly modern. The room was filled with glassy-looking walls of mostly blues and a few pinks here and there. The overall design looked sleek and geometric. Arranged in a circle were sixteen trial stands. Behind one of them was a stand displaying Amami’s photograph, with a bright red X crossing out his face.

“Look around for the trial stand with your name on it, everyone!” Monokuma called out cheerily. 

Everyone awkwardly walked around, settling into their spots.

“Ooh, I can feel the excitement,” Monokuma shivered with glee. “Now! Here are the rules, just as a refresher…”

=

_The photo on Rantaro’s stand are the same as the photos in his lab. Sepia-toned, like a funeral portrait, but jarringly covered with a bright red X..._

Ouma felt sick. Utterly, grossly sick. 

Though Monokuma’s reiteration of the rules practically went in one ear and out the other, Ouma forced himself to stay alert. _You’re in a trial now. Even if you didn’t do anything, someone could try to pin this on you._

_Watch your back, Kokichi._

=

“--and that’s all!” Monokuma beamed. “You don’t have a set amount of time for the trial. Take as long as you need… as long as it’s under two hours. Audiences these days don’t have an attention span longer than that!”

The Monokubs had also taken their place by now. “That’s right,” Monotaro grinned. The other bears cheered with him. “Begin the trial!”

Everyone was quiet.

Just… quiet. The aura of the room was tense and oppressive. Nobody knew what to say, or how to start the conversation. They were going to discuss a_ murder._

“Hey,” Monokuma glared at them. “Nobody likes watching silence, y’know! Bring on the evidence!”

At last, Shinguji spoke up. “Enough is enough, as they say…” he coughed. “We can’t keep avoiding this. Amami Rantaro-kun was murdered by one of us.”

“Was he the mastermind…?” Momota asked. 

Chabashira scoffed. “If he was, then we wouldn’t even be here, you stupid moronic goatee-having degenerate male incel.”

“What the _fuck,_ Chabashira, I was asking rhetorically! Obviously I know that!” Momota yelled back. “And don’t insult my goatee, it took a lot of effort to grow! I _had_ to or else nobody would’ve believed that I was legal and they wouldn’t have let me take the astronaut exam all those years early--”

“Oh my GOD, Momota-chan, _nobody_ cares about your goatee’s tearjerker backstory,” Ouma rolled his eyes. “Or about the fact that without it you’d have a baby face.”

“S-Shut up, I do _not _have a baby face!” Momota reddened.

“A-Actually, I’m kinda curious about the goatee backstory,” Shirogane said. “It’s, um, uh-- It’s important to Momota-kun’s chara-- who he is as a person, right?” 

(She was ignored.)

“Anyway…” Ouma continued. “The only belonging on Rantaro’s person was his Monopad.”

“Ouma-kun is right,” Saihara nodded. “The mastermind had to have a key card to get into the room behind the bookshelf, and Ouma-kun and I separately confirmed that Amami-kun didn’t have one with him.”

“Okay, then,” Akamatsu spoke above the others, voice loud and clear and leader-like. “Then the real question is, who _could_ be the mastermind?”

Everyone shifted in discomfort.

“Nyeh…” Yumeno raised her hand, then lowered it, apparently realizing she wasn’t in school. “I suspect Iruma.”

“HUH?!” Iruma bellowed. She whimpered. “W-Why me… why does this four-year old witch bitch think…”

“Don’t call Yumeno-san a bitch,” Chabashira glared in Iruma’s direction. “She’s better than that!”

“Then explain why she thinks I’m the mastermind! Me! Moi!” Iruma yelled. “Only an idiot and a bitch would believe that!”

“I WAS _GOING TO _EXPLAIN, BUT _YOU_ WON’T _SHUT UP!”_ Yumeno yelled back, tiny voice full of fury.

_(This trial is a disaster in all forms, _Akamatsu thought with a sigh.)

The room quieted again. Yumeno sighed. “My magical clairvoyance is telling me that since Iruma knows a lot about techy stuff, she could’ve made all the stuff here. The school facilities, the bookshelf and the keycard, and all that.” 

“Your logic is telling you that,” Iruma sniffed, puffing up her chest in a holier-than-thou way. “That’s science, ya little chibi magician. Magic isn’t real.”

“What Gilgamesh-level condescension!” Shirogane exclaimed. “But which Grail War are you from?”

“Wow,” Ouma yawned. “An otaku-ish reference we don’t understand. You must be a hardcore loser.”

Yumeno furrowed her brows, balling her hands into fist. “Hey, take that back!”

Ouma blinked in surprise. “Oookay… Sorry, Shirogane-chan?”

“Ugh, not_ you!”_ Yumeno snapped. She whirled around to Iruma. “You! Take that back! Magic is _too _real! I’m a mage! A witch! Not some loser-face street magician--”

“ANYWAY,” Iruma coughed loudly. “That’s fuckin’ baseless!”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Kiibo cut in. “I recorded everyone’s statements as to where they were before and during the murder, and Iruma-san wasn’t in the library at all. I can play them back for you if you’d like-- all according to Iruma-san’s account, Shinguji-kun’s account, and Toujo-san’s account.”

“Yes, Shinguji-kun and I were with her the whole time in the cafeteria,” Toujo nodded. “I can attest to her alibi.”

“See?” Iruma boasted triumphantly. “It’s not me!”

“Hmph,” Yumeno scowled pulling her hat lower. 

“Well, if we’re talking about who it could be…” Shinguji pondered aloud. “Shirogane-san was with us, but she left partway through to go to the restroom, and we didn’t see her again after that til we all met up at the library.”

“Really?” Momota raised a brow. “Huh… That’s the same thing Amami told us right before he left our meeting, and look where he ended up...”

Everyone’s heads snapped over to Shirogane.

“H-Huh…” Shirogane blinked. “Sh-Shinguji-kun, you mentioned that after all…”

“AAAH,” Monokumam pounded his feet with glee. “I’M GETTING EXCITED!”

“So are we!” the Monokubs chorused in unison. 

“S-Stop that, I was just plain in the bathroom! That sort of thing is private!” Shirogane’s eyes flitted across the room nervously, face reddening as her hands curled protectively around the ends of her skirt. “I-If you have some weird s-sort of fetish about it, then keep it to yourself!”

“Sexual harassment is a crime!” Kiibo announced boldly. He pointed an accusatory finger at the bears behind Shirogane. “Women suffer enough catcalling and abuses in public. I will not tolerate that sort of behavior in a school setting. Knock it off and leave her alone!”

_(My robot in shining armor,_ Shirogane internally rolled her eyes. _Gag.)_

“Thank you for your service, Kiibo,” Chabashira saluted him, tears in her eyes. “You’ve been promoted from degenerate male to acceptable robot. You’ll never be a divine female, but it’s been an honor.”

“Thanks?” Kiibo tilted his head. “Isn’t fighting for what’s right normal, though…? It was pretty common back home...”

“If fighting for what’s right is what this trial is all about, then allow me to continue what we were saying earlier,” Toujo interrupted, eyes aflame with something difficult to discern. She gripped her trial stand tighter. “Shinguji-kun was right. I clearly recall Shirogane-san leaving. If I may suggest it…” she breathed in. “Perhaps Shirogane-san went to the bathroom not to relieve herself, but to create a disguise of some sort.”

Shirogane’s eyes bulged. “S-Sorry?”

“Well, I believe it’s a perfectly rational train of thought,” Toujo explained matter-of-factly. “Since you are a cosplayer, Shirogane-san, you could easily create a disguise for yourself. Perhaps as a real person, like any of us here, or as a fictional character… Either way, once you were disguised, you could’ve gone to the library to kill Amami-kun. Cameras or no cameras, you’d be completely sure that your identity wouldn’t be revealed.”

“Th--” Shirogane stammered, tongue-tied. “That’s preposterous--”

“I kinda agree, y’know?” Iruma scratched her head. “Geeky Plain Jane over here gives me lots of weird vibes… and those headaches get stronger, too.”

Everyone murmured. It was true, though uncomfortable to admit aloud.

“No, it wasn’t Shirogane-san.”

Everyone looked at who had spoken up.

“Akamatsu-san?” Shirogane asked in disbelief.

Akamatsu nodded. “Shirogane-san has this thing called cospox. She showed it to me before we all met Monokuma in the gym.”

“Huh?” Momota blinked. “The hell kinda disease is that?”

Iruma nodded. “Never heard of it.”

“Treating sickness is part of my repertoire as a maid, but I have never encountered one caused by certain forms of cosplaying,” Toujo frowned. 

“Please, everyone, believe me!” Akamatsu begged, hand over her chest. “Cross my heart and everything. She gets this ridiculous pink rash all over her body if she tries to cosplay real people. That’s why she couldn’t disguise herself as any of us. And if she disguised herself as a fictional character, then it’d still be obvious that it’s her and not any of the rest of us!”

“...I see what you mean, Akamatsu,” Hoshi admitted. “But I’ve got experience in sports medicine from all my tennis playing, and I’ve never heard of this illness either.”

“Don’t be offended. Your logic does, by all means, make sense,” Shinguji hugged his shoulders, crossing his arms over like an X. “But the nature of this… ‘disease’, or whatever it is…” he narrowed his eyes. “It’s suspicious.” 

Shirogane bit her lip. “Then it’s j-just semantics, isn’t it?” She looked at all her accusers. “Let’s move on for now, and come back to discuss this later, time permitting.”

“In that case…” Saihara spoke up quietly. “If I recall correctly, there was someone other than Shirogane-san and Amami-kun who left their respective locations.”

He looked at Gonta.

Gonta pointed at himself in disbelief. “You mean Gonta is the killer? That’s not true!”

Saihara held out his hands, vigorously shaking his head. “A-Ah, no, not at all! I’m just saying it’s something we need to bring up…”

“While that is true,” Kiibo interrupted, “I have another audio recording proving that Gonta-kun couldn’t be the murderer either. Here’s Harukawa-san’s account!”

“Do you want to die?” Harukawa glared at him; Kiibo instantly withered. “Don’t you dare press play. I hate hearing my voice on recordings. I’ll summarize.”

She sighed. “So this idiot,” she jerked a thumb in Momota’s direction, ignoring his indignant yelp, “invited me, Gonta, Amami, Angie, Yumeno, and Chabashira to a meeting where we’d discuss how to kill Monokuma. Amami left in the middle to ‘go to the bathroom’. Then, Gonta left to see if the movie room had any clues about how to kill the bears.”

“Boo!” Monokuma jeered.

“Boooooo!” The Monokubs followed suit.

“While I can’t speak for what Gonta did during that time,” Harukawa rolled her eyes, “Yumeno, Angie, and I all went to the movie room after we ended the meeting. We were with Gonta the whole time up til the body discovery announcement.”

“God was there, too! It was divine!” Angie grinned.

“Nyeh… yeah, that’s right,” Yumeno nodded.

“It’s true, they were all with Gonta!” Gonta insisted.

“Which means that even if Gonta somehow could’ve forced the heavy sliding door open to throw the shot put ball, the killer wasn’t him,” Akamatsu finished. “And either way, the moving bookcase was open-- remember the photo? If he’d thrown it, it would’ve hit the bookcase instead.”

They murmured in agreement. Aside from Shirogane, Amami, and Gonta, nobody else had left their original locations. Shinguji, Iruma, and Toujo couldn’t have done it. Gonta, Harukawa, Angie, and Yumeno couldn’t have done it.

“What if the mastermind was inside the hidden door in the bookshelf from the start?” Angie asked, gaze darkening. “God says it’s possible.”

Saihara shook his head. “There was a card reader on the door. I put dust in it to see if the mastermind used their key card to go in, but when I checked again after the body discovery, the dust was still there.”

“So you think nobody entered just because of that?” Angie tilted her head, grinning unsettlingly. “The mastermind is clearly smarter than they seem. What if they just put some more dust after entering?”

“She has a point,” Hoshi acquiesced. “The mastermind could’ve been hiding in there from the start. Waited in there, killed Amami, then rejoined everyone later.”

Saihara was quiet. Akamatsu grit her teeth. True, neither of them had thought of that possibility…

“But if that were the case, we would’ve seen them on the cameras when they left the room, too,” Akamatsu insisted. “And we didn’t. All sixteen of us were in those photos from the front entrance. Nobody came from the mastermind’s bookshelf room.”

Toujo spoke up next. “There could be a secret entrance we don’t know about within the school.”

At this, everyone suddenly clutched their heads, crying out in pain.

“W-What the hell is this…” Harukawa dug her nails into her skin.

Ouma covered his nose, eyes scrunching shut. “Goddamn--_ smell--”_

Saihara was gripping his trial stand hard enough that his knuckles turned white, quiet, yet undeniably hearing some of those voices that he usually heard. His eyes widened, as if suddenly realizing something.

_That’s weird, _Akamatsu grimaced, thinking as hard as she could over the crescendoing music in her head. _What about that made everyone remember something and get headaches…?_

Toujo recollected herself and continued. “A-As I said,” she cleared her throat. “It’s wholly possible that the mastermind entered that room from a different area. If they’re the mastermind, they surely would have covered their own bases…”

“T-The library is underground, though--” Shirogane spoke up. “According to the Monopads. And this side of the building is part of the outer edge if you look at it from the outside, so there can’t be any entrance behind the room for the mastermind to go in or come out.”

“Maybe not a normal-sized entrance…” Chabashira said slowly. “But there was a vent in the library, wasn’t there? Someone could’ve snuck in through that.”

“Mm,” Yumeno bit her lip. “Maybe? Someone short like me or Hoshi are small enough to, maybe, but there were too many books stacked up on top for even either of us to be able to use it.

_They’re getting closer, _Akamatsu decided. It was like a sudden weight had been lifted from her chest. _Good. The sooner they’re able to figure out who really murdered Amami-kun, the better…_

“Shall we discuss the alibis one more time?” Shinguji suggested. “Iruma-san, Toujo-san, and I were all together in the same place.” He paused, gesturing to allow someone else to speak.

Momota nodded. “Chabashira and I were always in the same place.”

“Angie, Harukawa, Gonta, and I were all together in the movie room,” Yumeno said. 

“Saihara-kun and I were together,” Akamatsu said. “Though when the receiver went off, Saihara-kun went ahead of me for a moment…”

“Hey,” Ouma interrupted. “Why’d you wait til now to mention that? Couldn’t Saihara-chan have totally killed Rantaro then?”

Everyone froze.

“If there was a period of time when you two were split up,” Ouma said carefully, “then it’s plausible.”

“Wh-- that’s ridiculous!” Akamatsu protested. “Saihara-kun couldn’t have killed Amami-kun-- the security sensor was going off!”

“Wasn’t Rantaro the one who triggered the security sensor?” Angie asked, tilting her head. “The photos from the bookcase and side door cameras prove that him entering the side door and then opening the bookcase triggered it. And the cameras never caught the killer, so Shuichi could’ve just avoided them~”

“Okay, but how do you know that for sure?” Harukawa interrupted. “Akamatsu, were there two receivers?”

“I-- I don’t--” Akamatsu stammered. “Iruma-san made them, so I don’t know…”

Everyone looked to Iruma. 

“Doesn’t that answer it?” Iruma scoffed. “No.” She turned her gaze to Saihara. “No, I only made one of those bad boys.”

“So Saihara had the only receiver, huh…” Hoshi’s gaze darkened. “Interesting…”

“N-No! Actually, I just remembered! I had the receiver! Saihara-kun gave it to me once it went off!” Akamatsu lied on the spot.

Saihara’s breath hitched.

“What an obvious fucking_ lie,”_ Ouma laughed. “Akamatsu-chan, you’ll have to do waaaay better than that to get past me, the resident liar of this academy.”

Akamatsu winced. _Urgh!_

“Since you made the receiver and the cameras, Iruma-san…” Shinguji shivered. “Why did the cameras not catch the killer? Did you mess up? If Saihara-kun was the killer, then certainly he couldn’t have managed to avoid every instance of photography?”

“How dare you say something like that!” Iruma growled. “I’m the greatest girl genius on the planet. I don’t make mistakes.” She sighed. “It was just the camera intervals I’d placed. The killer must’ve known about it and timed themselves around it.”

“Wait,” Akamatsu froze. “What intervals?”

Iruma blinked. “I told your beta boytoy over there back when he collected all the cameras from me. Didn’t he tell ya?”

Saihara looked like a mouse caught in a trap. Sweating, eyes shifting.

Still quiet. He hadn’t spoken in a long time now...

“Saihara-kun…?” Akamatsu was stunned. 

“Wait a sec,” Iruma’s eyes widened. “Are you actually the culprit, Saihara?” she asked, suddenly furious. “The fuck?!”

“...”

“H-He can’t possibly be!” Akamatsu stuttered.

“Well? Say something, Saihara,” Harukawa narrowed her eyes.

“..........”

“I don’t... think it’s him,” Kiibo shook his head.

“At least defend yourself,” Shirogane murmured. “Come on.”

“...............................”

“I get that we’re all confused, but don’t you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt?” Momota defended him.

“You all seem pretty split,” Monokuma interjected gleefully. “You guys know what that means! I think it’s time for everyone’s favorite-- the scrum debate!”

“Scrum! Scrum! Scrum! Scrum!” the Monokubs cheered.

Upbeat yet suspenseful music began playing around them. “Where’s that music coming from?” Akamatsu asked. The others also looked around, to no avail.

**“Is Saihara Shuichi the killer?”** Monokuma asked, ignoring the teens’ confusion. “It’s up to you guys to debate! Go!”

They all shook aside their confusion. They didn’t have a lot of time in the trial. They’d have to go through as much information as possible.

“I think he is the culprit,” Shinguji said. “You hid what you knew about the camera intervals, Saihara-kun.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean that he had malicious intent!” Kiibo rebutted.

“He’s right,” Yumeno nodded. “Nyeh… Plenty of people naturally forget to mention these things, especially in stressful situations!” 

“That’s weaker reasoning than guys who say there’s no need to use condoms,” Iruma frowned. “Unlike Saihara, most of us have airtight alibis.”

“Momota and I were downstairs outside the library the whole time up til the music stopped,” Chabashira retorted.

Momota nodded. “And we didn’t see Saihara come down to the underground anytime before he said he came!”

“But even so, Saihara and Akamatsu weren’t together the whole time, were they?” Harukawa pointed out.

“That may be true, but a few seconds to a minute isn’t long enough to go all the way to the library, kill someone, and come back-- even for God,” Angie replied.

“Well, if Saihara had the receiver, it could’ve been disguised somehow-- like, modified so that it falsely went off to give him an excuse to go,” Hoshi accused.

“But Saihara-kun couldn’t have gone to the library in such short time! Angie-san said so!” Gonta exclaimed. “Not to mention, Iruma-san wouldn’t have modified it to assist him in murder if that’s true, and Akamatsu-san said she herself had the receiver!!”

“But that’s just Akamatsu-chan’s lie, isn’t it?” Ouma curled his lip into a grin.

“It’s not a lie!” Akamatsu insisted. “Who had the receiver isn’t important to the main case!”

“Saihara-kun was the first one to bring up the bookshelf to begin with, right?” Shirogane asked in concern. “It seems like that topic’s only spread discord among us…”

“Who brought it up also isn’t the issue here!” Akamatsu rushed to Saihara’s defense again._ Why isn’t he saying anything?! What’s gotten him so tensed up?_

“Saihara’s quietness is suspicious here, but what’s most important is confirming if he’d been to the library or not,” Toujo furrowed her brows.

“For the last time, he _hasn’t!”_ Chabashira slammed her fist against her trial stand, and that was that.

“Okay everyone, scrum debate over!” Monokuma announced. “What are your results?”

“Saihara isn’t the killer,” Momota shook his head. “He _can’t_ be. Because he wasn’t in the library at the time of the murder. Like we said, Chabashira and I were in the hallway near the library for pretty much the whole time the music was playing, so we would’ve seen someone go in. Saihara met up with us and talked to us during that time.”

“Not to mention,” Chabashira added, “he isn’t strong enough to pry open the side door. I’ve punched him before, and I could feel how weak and twig-like his arms are.”

“...I guess that settles it, then,” Ouma whistled lowly. “For now.”

_Thank god,_ Akamatsu thought, relief lifting her spirit. _We’ve cleared Saihara-kun’s name._ She turned to look at him.

He was still silent. His breathing was quick, and he was staring off into space, lost in thought.

Akamatsu frowned.

_What’s going on in his head...?_

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	8. 1-7. Our Class Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE, AND PART 2 OF THE TRIAL. IF YOU HAVENT READ PART 1, GO BACK.**
> 
> the same fairy from last chapter: and THEN you blindside em with angst

_It was Akamatsu-san._

The dreaded realization pervaded Saihara’s mind like a slimy disease slithering its way through. He didn’t want it there, but it was a fact that he couldn’t lie about. It was the complete, unspinable truth.

_Akamatsu-san killed Amami-kun._

His breathing was shallow, but he covered it his mouth and nose with his hand; the usual pensive pose. Anything to prevent people from seeing that he’d noticed something.

_The only open entrance to the library was the vent... which was connected to the classroom we were in. Akamatsu-san's backpack looked a lot lighter after we'd left..._

He’d realized it long before the others had, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up this silent treatment. The truth repeated like a mantra in his head; a cold reckoning, begging him to break down. _It was Akamatsu-san. It was Akamatsu-san. It was Akamatsu--_

_I can’t say it. I can’t!_

Even after the scrum debate had cleared him, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Because if he started talking now, it’d become even more obvious how the culprit had to have been her… 

She was his closest friend here. And even if she’d encouraged him before, it was a fact that whenever he revealed the truth, it always led to other people suffering pain and hardships. Saihara wasn’t prepared for that. He didn’t want to be responsible for someone’s _death--_

“Okay, can we back up a bit?” Kiibo asked, snapping Saihara out of his thoughts. “Let’s shift gears. How did Amami-kun notice the camera to begin with? Since one of the photos was a closeup of his face, he had to have, at some point, noticed the camera.”

Chabashira replied. “The flash, right?” Suddenly, she grimaced, letting out a quiet groan as she clutched her head.

“The--” she winced. “The lighting on the photos from the bookshelf… is different…”

“Little Miss Lesbian is right,” Iruma gave a thumbs up. “If you compare the pictures, all the others are normal, but these ones look bright.”

“Not to mention, the closeup photo of Saihara,” Harukawa sniffed. “He said he didn’t notice it going off, which could’ve only been the case if the other cameras didn’t have the flash on.”

“Then…” Gonta spoke up hesitantly. “Why did they turn the flash on for the bookshelf camera? If they left it off, they could’ve still gotten pictures…”

“Ah, that--” Akamatsu interrupted with a smile. “That was to lure the mastermind closer. They’d notice the first flash, then go closer to the camera, where the second flash would clearly capture their face.”

“That’s strange,” Angie’s lips curled into a grin. “Veeery strange! Why take that risk, hm?”

Akamatsu startled. “W-What do you mean?”

Angie began twirling a paintbrush from her smock, occasionally tapping her chin with it. “Weeeeell… God is telling me that it doesn’t make sense to do that. If the flash was on and the mastermind noticed, then they could go to the camera and rip out the film, riiight? You wouldn’t have even gotten any photos if they did that, and your whole plan would’ve fallen apart.”

A low murmur filled the trial room. She had a point.

“Nyahaha! It’s stupid to me, but what’s done is done, I suppose,” Angie said serenely. 

“Onto other things…” Shinguji interrupted. “Where did the shot put ball come from?”

The others bristled. “Huh?” Momota asked, confused. “The warehouse, duh.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Shinguji brushed him off. “I investigated the warehouse, and saw the box from which the shot put ball must have originated. Naturally, anyone could’ve deigned to take one, but… how did the culprit bring the shot put ball _into_ the library to begin with?”

The others murmured at first; then, the discussion grew louder, incomprehensive. At last, a certain supreme leader spoke above the voices of the masses.

“STOP!” Ouma yelled. The others quieted. “Clearly this is too much for us to handle all at once. Let’s recap a bit, shall we?” He held up one finger. “First off, it couldn’t have been through the bookshelf, because we proved the mastermind wasn’t in there.” He held up a second finger. “And it wasn’t the front entrance either, because the crappy photos Akamatsu-chan and Saihara-chan took didn’t show a mastermind there before the rest of us arrived.”

“Hey,” Akamatsu frowned.

“I _profusely_ apologize,” Ouma said flippantly, clearly not apologetic in the least.

“Don’t be pro fuse, Ouma-kun!” Gonta insisted, looking rather scared. “Fires are bad!”

“Relax, Gonta, I’m only a pyromaniac on alternate Tuesdays!” Ouma grinned.

“Dude, can you focus?” Momota groaned, tapping his foot impatiently. “Now’s not the fucking time.”

Ouma held up a third finger. “Finally, it couldn’t have been the side entrance, because the camera by the sliding door didn’t show anyone else other than Rantaro.”

“That basically eliminates every major entryway,” Kiibo hummed. “Where else could the mastermind have put the shot put ball through…?

Suddenly, Yumeno lit up. “Put the ball _through…?_ Wouldn’t the vent work?”

Saihara’s breath hitched.

Yumeno spoke again. "It's too small for people... But it's big enough for a metal ball that size.”

“The ball can’t have rolled there on its own, so that can’t be it. We need to look for a different way,” Saihara finally spoke up. Even if he was panicking, he wanted to dissuade the idea.

“Nuh-uh,” Iruma wagged her finger. “The photo my drone took of an aerial view is different. There were books on top, remember? And according to my photo, the books are perfectly aligned, like a ramp or stair-steps. That would let it gain speed.”

“Then what about the noise?” Saihara pressed, painfully strained. “Libraries are quiet.”

“M-Monokuma’s music was loud enough to cover up sounds of pretty much everything,” Shirogane explained. “So it probably covered up the sound of the ball as well, if it was rolling down a ramp…”

“Good job, guys,” Akamatsu praised, a breathy laugh on her lips. “Great thinking. You’re putting the pieces together really nicely.”

“No, they’re not,” Saihara’s voice rose, trembling. “They’re on the wrong track. We can’t go down this line of discussion--”

"Saihara-kun," Akamatsu interrupted, face blank. "What are you afraid of?"

He didn’t say it.

"Speak up," Akamatsu said. "I told you, didn't I? You shouldn't be scared of the truth.”

Saihara pulled his cap lower, covering his eyes. “I…”

“I think... I think you've figured it out already, haven’t you?” she smiled bittersweetly. “For a while now."

“Huh?” Gonta yelped, confused. “T-Then why didn't Saihara-kun say anything?!

Saihara shook his head, swallowing down the lump lodged in his throat. "No," he said numbly, voice hoarse and teary. "No! Y-You can't--"

"Explain it, Saihara-kun," Akamatsu smiled. "This trial is for everyone's sake, isn't it? It's not my class trial... it's ours."

"NO!" Saihara snapped, and the others startled. His breathing became more and more erratic, close to hyperventilating. "No, I won't. You're out of your mind, Akamatsu-san. I'm not saying _anything."_

Akamatsu purses her lips. "Saihara-kun…”

=

_This isn’t good._

_I have to get him to reveal the truth. _

_I’ll have to fight him if I want to guide everyone to the right answer…!_

=

Akamatsu took in a deep breath, then spoke up again, this time louder. “You have to reveal what you’ve found out, Saihara-kun. Otherwise, what’s the point of the trial?”

“No,” Saihara said firmly._ I can’t reveal the truth._

“You have to!” Akamatsu insisted.

“No!” Saihara deflected, hurt in his gaze. _Why is she trying to make me do this?!_

“Why not?!” Akamatsu grit her teeth, nearly yelling. _She’s sad and mad... _“Don’t you care about everyone’s lives? If they don’t find out what really happened, we’ll all _die!”_

“I don’t want to be the one responsible for that!” Saihara yelled back, tears forming in his eyes. “B-Being responsible for people’s lives and deaths-- I c-can’t handle that kind of pressure! And you-- you’re _crazy _if you think I’d be okay with being given that kind of ultimatum!”

“It’s not an ultimatum, Saihara-kun!” Akamatsu grit her teeth. “It’s what’s _necessary_ to uncover the truth! Don’t be scared of it! Don’t run away and _hide_ from it! All of us are trapped here, so face your fears head on!”

"SHUT _UP!” _Saihara screamed at her desperately, mad tears streaming down his cheeks, hands gripping the trial stand like it was his last lingering support. His headache was throbbing. The others startled, not used to hearing the quiet detective shout so loudly. 

Every emotion bubbled within him at once. “JUST _DROP IT,_ AKAMATSU-SAN!” Saihara howled. “I REFUSE TO REVEAL THE TRUTH! BLABBING SOMETHING THAT INCRIMINATING-- NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY OR DO, _YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"_

“W-Wait,” Ouma interrupted, sounding concerned. “Saihara-chan--”

“It’s okay, Saihara-kun,” Akamatsu smiled encouragingly-- bittersweetly._ “It’s okay._ Reveal the truth. It’s time to confess. _Put an end to this.”_

Saihara sobbed, grip slackening on his trial stand. “No… No…”

“Saihara-kun,” Akamatsu said softly. “You don’t have to be scared of the truth anymore. For my sake, and yours… and everyone else’s here. This is _our_ class trial.” She beamed. “So we need to work together to fit the puzzle pieces of this case the right way.”

“H-Hey… you two...” Momota reached a hand out, then grimaced, letting his arm fall back to his side. 

“What’s going on?” Harukawa furrowed her brows, somewhat concerned. “What ‘truth’ are you talking about…?”

Akamatsu turned to Saihara again. “Well?”

Saihara hiccuped, wiping his tears. “Th-- The culprit--” his voice was too watery. “The culprit... is…”

Akamatsu smiled.

He couldn’t say it. 

He only looked at Akamatsu, mouth wobbling, a split second away from completely melting into sobs.

Luckily, the others caught on. “Akamatsu-san…?” Kiibo asked, taking a horrified step back.

“It was inevitable, huh?” she laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, everyone… That’s right. It was me.”

“It happened… like this,” Saihara swallowed, doing his best to pull himself together. “My plan was to take pictures of the mastermind, so we could just know who they were... Hers was to take that plan a step further by killing them before a killing game could start. 

“She rearranged the books herself before we set up the cameras. A-And then… she hid a shot put ball from the warehouse in her backpack, wrapping it in a spare sweater from her closet so that it wouldn’t be obvious…

“When I left the classroom with the receiver for a moment, she slipped the ball through the vent, and it gained momentum from the books… Monokuma’s music happened to hide the noise of the shot put ball. It hardly took a second. I came back to the room to get her to come with me, and it didn’t even look like anything was different.

“While Amami-kun was distracted by the camera flash, he couldn’t hear the ball rolling above him… and he got hit with it. The ball rolled away from him after it hit him on the head. That’s how Akamatsu-san--” Saihara choked on her name. “Killed him… without even being in the library…”

Saihara grit his teeth, emotional and heated. “It was an accident,” he swore. “A stupid, stupid _accident-- _she was trying to kill the mastermind, not Amami-kun…!”

“No,” Akamatsu said faintly. “The way this whole thing happened… I don’t think there’s a mastermind at all.”

“Akamatsu-san…” Chabashira had tears in her eyes too.

Everyone did.

“My head hurts…” Yumeno complained, voice thin. Everyone looked broken from the revelation. Saihara sniffled, trying to stand up tall and strong despite how badly it hurt inside.

Their leader was the killer. The friend they had all trusted and respected…

“Any last few points to discuss?” Monokuma asked, finality in his voice. Everyone shook their heads. The truth was clear to them.

=

(_As clear as a shot put ball,_ Shirogane thought. Her lips pressed into a thin line, pleased that the emotion of the trial made them forget all about plain old her’s absent alibi.)

=

The truth was clear… and Saihara had revealed it.

He’d revealed it and practically sentenced his closest friend to death. 

“Well then, in that case, it’s voting time!” Monokuma declared with a grin, pressing a bright blue button. He winked. “You have ten seconds to tap on the picture of the culprit! Have fun!”

Saihara couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle it at all.

In that instant, Saihara’s facade of bravery, short lived though it was, utterly shattered.

As the voting machines slowly rose up in front of them, settling into everyone’s trial stands, Saihara completely fell apart in tears.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch... my heart....... hhhurts ; - ; and I'm the writer, sheesh...
> 
> I'd always wondered what the ch.1 trial would've been like if the argument armament portion was akamatsu as the protag, but fighting against saihara and his desire to not reveal the truth. from a narrative standpoint, that probably would've made more sense... at least imo. 
> 
> (side question, but would anyone be interested in a discord server for this AU? let me know!)
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


	9. 1-8. Killing Harmony: Der Flohwalzer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old leader departs.
> 
> A scared young boy decides he'll be a man.
> 
> Saihara walks a dangerous path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for (sorta) graphic depiction of violence and major character death-- Akamatsu's, and it mostly follows canon. If you want to avoid reading that, skip down from "the punishment started" to "the first punishment"-- by then, POV switches.
> 
> additional TW for (somewhat) graphic suicidal thoughts. If you want to avoid reading that, skip down from "his dorm room" to "the casino"-- it's only two sentences.
> 
> keep tissues on hand, everyone. or a glass of water. this week is angst central...

It was a unanimous vote.

Saihara felt sick to his stomach.

“Congratulations, you all got it right!” Monokuma cheered. “The killer was the one and only Ultimate Pianist, Akamatsu Kaede!”

Everything blurred. His head was throbbing from the pain of having cried so much-- and maybe also because this was triggering a memory; it was too hard to tell. It was too much to take in. Akamatsu, as kind and cheerful and genuine as she was, became the first murderer of the very killing game she swore she’d end.

“But… why?” Shirogane bit her lip. “If you knew all along that you were his killer, even if it wasn’t a straightforward murder, why did you stall…? Why didn’t you take advantage of the blood perk?”

“You still have a ways to go, Shirogane,” Hoshi scoffed. “It’s fairly simple, isn’t it? If she accepted the perk and left, then all of us would’ve lost what little trust or respect we had for each other. The suspicion would’ve escalated and we would’ve began killing each other in earnest.”

Saihara felt like his tongue was being swallowed up as he spoke. “She tried killing the mastermind to avoid anything else happening, but ended up getting the wrong person.” He took in a shaky breath. “It was just like I said... Amami-kun’s death happening instead was an accident,” his voice cracked.

“No, Saihara-kun,” Akamatsu interrupted, tears leaking from her eyes. “It _was_ on purpose. I didn’t know Amami-kun would be in the library, but it was my full intention that whoever was down there would be killed. Even if it wasn’t the mastermind I’d been targeting, I still killed someone, and that makes me a murderer.”

“No, you’re not!” Saihara cried. It was impossible to hold in. “You’re kind and you’re courageous and you have the heart it takes to lead us-- it shouldn’t have been you!”

Akamatsu smiled bittersweetly. “But it _was_ me.” 

Saihara didn’t know what to say to that.

Without waiting for a response, Akamatsu moved towards Saihara, giving him a hug. “You regard me very highly, Saihara-kun,” Akamatsu murmured into his ear. “It’s honestly flustering. You’re one of my closest friends. And it’s because of that that I have to tell you… you deserve to survive, too. You deserve to move on and _live._ Even if this is the end of my story… I trust you and the others to continue onwards. Fulfill my will. End this killing game, no matter what it takes. Okay?”

It was so, so hard for Saihara to keep it all together and not break down sobbing again right then and there on Akamatsu’s shoulder.

“Okay?” Akamatsu nudged him gently, her own voice watery and trembling. Saihara nodded vigorously through the tears, biting his lip.

Akamatsu broke the hug.

(She was still crying.)

“Thanks, guys,” she said, and the air of finality in her words hurt. “And I’m sorry. For everything. Please, do your best to end the killing game from now on. I’ll always be supporting you...”

Monokuma flicked a paw in their general direction. “Gross,” he stuck out his tongue. “Disgusting! Your heartwarming camaraderie sickens me to my core. Are you done? Can we get on with it?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “Cool! It’s EXECUTION TIME!”

He pressed a bright blue button, and before any of them could yell out to wait or to say a final, last-minute goodbye, the punishment started.

As the brace closed around Akamatsu’s neck and began pulling her up, Saihara reached out towards her, and she reached out towards him-- towards anyone, really.

(It didn’t matter.)

(Their hands would never meet again.)

On the screens around them, a title screen flashed:

**DER FLOHWALZER**

Ultimate Pianist Akamatsu Kaede’s Execution: Executed

“De-Der…?” Saihara squinted, attempting to pronounce the words. Foreign languages weren’t quite his forte.

“It’s_ Der Flohwalzer,” _Shinguji pronounced effortlessly, brows furrowed.

“The Flea Waltz?” Momota translated, confused. “What…?”

Unfortunately for them, they’d soon see exactly what it meant.

Akamatsu landed on a large piano, before a Monokuma conductor and a great big crowd of Monokumas. The brace was still around her neck. 

Then the Monokubs pulled her up.

It was a noose. Like some sort of ragdoll puppet, Akamatsu was being pulled here and there by the neck, “playing” the piano by stepping on the tiles.

The piece itself was cacophony, a caricature of everything Akamatsu had ever worked for. The song reverberated across the trial room with all its awful wrong notes and loosened rhythms. The Monokuma crowd began booing. The Monokuma conductor increased the tempo; as Akamatsu was being moved faster and faster, she began clawing at her neck, purple and red and blue in the face, desperate for air and unable to rest--

Saihara couldn’t look away.

He couldn’t.

The tears couldn’t stop either. Not when she was being pulled away, not when she first landed, not when she was being dragged around from key to key, and not at the very end, when her limp, lifeless body dangled like an eerie, shadowy ghost over the piano.

=

The first execution was almost always the most brutal, and its aftermath always left the remaining participants in shock. Keeping this in mind, Shirogane Tsumugi picked her next words carefully.

“I… I feel sick…” Shirogane muffled her voice, feigning horror. “I can’t stand this anymore… I think I’m gonna go c-crazy….”

_But well,_ she thought, a glint in her glasses. _At least it wasn’t me. _

Maintaining the look of utter terror was a cinch, since she kept acting like other Danganronpa characters. Channeling any of them would make it look like she was actually still scared. Truth be told, she’d been quite worried for a while there-- that was too close for comfort.

Either way, it was kind of a shame that she couldn’t just be natural like her co-stars.

Case in point: Saihara’s legs buckled and completely gave way, leading to him outright collapsing from the stress.

_The thought of his closest friend in the game being dead is still settling in within his mind, _Shirogane analyzed almost gleefully. _God, I feel so sorry for him… but that’ll only add to his character later on, so it’s fine._

“She’s… dead?” Gonta’s voice wobbled. Chabashira took a trembling step backwards. 

“Akamatsu-san…” Toujo’s voice was dull, disbelieving.

“My head,” Kiibo’s voice was strangled. “The headache… hurts…” he grit his teeth, gripping his trial stand in extreme pain. “My inner voice is getting--” he took a deep, harsh breath, choking out a sob. “--so-- _loud--”_

“I’ve never felt quite this… irritated,” Hoshi admitted. 

The lumps in everyone’s throats, whether from trauma or irritation or mere fear, made Shirogane’s heart clench. 

Yes. _Yes,_ this was the Danganronpa she loved and remembered. And as always, she’d be watching it from a distance.

She hadn’t quite been paying attention all the way, because when she finally tuned back in Saihara was waxing some poetic protagonist-like speech about being the reason Akamatsu died-- _‘She trusted my detective work, and I failed!’ _

How tragic. How utterly heart-wrenching. The viewers would love this.

...Shirogane felt nothing.

=

“...”

There was nothing to be said after that.

Momota had never been particularly close to Akamatsu, but she was a good leader and a good friend. He admired her positivity and leadership skills. At the very least, she was able to pull this ragtag group of talented kids together and help them try to escape.

It made his head spin. If even _he_ was feeling this sick at her death, haunted by that image of her corpse dangling, then how must the others be feeling? Shirogane, who according to Amami, had gotten close enough to Akamatsu to paint her nails earlier that same day? Saihara, who had been arguably the closest to her of all of them?

He turned to look. Shirogane… was hard to read. Momota supposed that she looked upset… sort of.

Saihara, on the other hand, was hyperventilating on the floor. 

Momota’s heart clenched at the pitiful sight. It was obvious, he supposed. From a psychological standpoint, it was a given that Saihara’s brain and body would overload from the stress. Astronauts had to train to make sure they didn’t immediately panic like that, but normal detectives… probably wouldn’t. Ditto with more than half the remaining others.

_...Someone’s gotta step up and help everyone out of this. _

_Now that Akamatsu’s gone… someone’s gotta be the leader in her place, right?_

Momota picked up his feet, heavier than lead, and walked towards the other boy. It wasn’t strong of him to be sobbing his eyes out, not manly in the least, but Momota wasn’t about to yell at Saihara after all the shit he’d already seen. 

After all the shit that had happened to his _best friend. _Andafter having to openly reveal that she was the killer…

He crouched down to face Saihara, then held out his hand.

“Get up,” he said. It wasn’t quiet, but it wasn’t a harsh demand either.

Saihara choked on his breathing, wiping away old tears with the palms of his hands only for them to be replaced with new ones. “Wh--”

Momota grabbed his wrist and lifted him up, putting an arm around his shoulders for support. Saihara shook like a leaf.

“Stand. Steady your legs. Steady your breathing.” Here Momota was, completely and utterly lost, yet still giving out orders. “Just-- count your breathing in and out with me, okay? One… two…”

(Almost as if the strong, bold Luminary of the Stars was a real person, and not just the concoction of a freaked out teenage boy acting out the role of a hero.)

Saihara tried, he really did. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

“So… can you stand?” Momota finally asked him, slowly trying to pull away.

Saihara nodded faintly. He wasn’t stumbling, which was a plus, but he still looked lost.

_Well, shit. He’s still out of it… _Momota looked around at the others. Some were looking at them, others were just… staring. Staring off into space.

_God, we’re all fucked up inside._

“Hey, guys,” he said louder. They turned, startled; Momota swallowed, forcing down any reminders of Akamatsu’s death or Saihara’s pain.

_You can’t let them know you’re just as fucking terrified as them._

_Heroes don’t get scared. Put on a smile. Laugh. Be tough. Trick the fear inside you. Grin and bear it, if you’re a man._

_Become the leader they need you to be--!_

“We can’t be getting down like this,” Momota looked everyone in the eye, determinedly punching a fist into his open palm. “I’m pretty damn upset about this trial… but I’m more upset that we’re all still upset. Keep your chins up!” 

He grinned. “Being all gloomy like this ain’t what Akamatsu woulda wanted.”

=

Ouma raised a brow.

_Playing up the protagonist role so we aren’t totally depressed, huh…?_

He smirked.

_Heh… He’s almost as good a liar as I am. _

=

Shirogane pursed her lips.

This wasn’t quite the end result she’d wanted. Well, in terms of the death and execution, it was. Amami and Akamatsu were too dangerous to leave alive. But the trial itself had left quite a bit to be desired. So many people had correctly suspected her and nearly figured her out-- Hoshi, Toujo, Angie, Shinguji, Iruma…

Even Ouma had managed to influence everyone’s moods after the Death Road attempt… And now here was Momota, actually managing to cheer them up after something that should’ve completely and utterly decimated their spirits.

Shirogane continued her fake crying and sniffling on the outside, but internally, the gears in her brain turned, like perfectly well-tuned clockwork.

Analyzing, agonizing, scheming, dreaming, screaming--

Shirogane scrunched her eyes shut, forcing the headaches and her flash-forwarding movie screen memories away.

Whatever the mental movie theater was trying to show her, it had nearly gotten her executed this time around. She’d have to ignore it if she wanted this game to be truly successful.

_If I want this show to stay interesting, I’ll need all of them gone, too. It’s a shame that it’s the vast majority of the cast, but it has to be done._

_And for the next chapter, I’ll start with--_

=

Despite Momota’s brave words, the whole ordeal left a bitter feeling in all of them. One by one, everyone solemnly left to go to their rooms, likely all still reeling from what had happened.

Saihara could understand that. He and the others had all been completely unable to bring themselves to talk about it or try to diffuse the remaining tension from after the execution.

He still felt numb, aside from the aching pain in his head and his heart. 

“Hey… Saihara…”

He looked up, slowly, to find Momota still in the trial room, looking at him with a vague air of concern.

“We’ll make it out together, okay? All of us,” Momota muttered, playfully socking him in the arm. Saihara winced; Momota instantly grimaced. “Sorry.”

“...”

Saihara hadn’t ever felt so despondent before. It had been so violent and painful--

“This might not be the best idea, man, but…” Momota let out a low sigh. “If you still feel tense and pent up… maybe go visit Akamatsu’s lab.”

Saihara blinked at him, only vaguely able to register what Momota had said. “Huh…?”

“I dunno… Her lab was open, right?” Momota rubbed the back of his neck, tired but still sounding somewhat casual. “Maybe if you go there, it’ll help you be able to remember her for a bit. And then…” he paused.

Saihara could practically hear the implication even without Momota putting it into words. _And then you can move on._

He laughed hollowly. “Thanks, Momota-kun…” his voice was still a bit croaky from all the crying and screaming. “You’ve done a lot to help me. Thank you.” He pulled his hat lower. “I think… I might do that. Maybe. See you soon.”

And he walked out of the trial room, not even waiting for Momota’s response.

Incredible, and admirable, how Momota managed to stay somewhat upbeat-- if that could even be called upbeat-- despite all the horror he must’ve felt.

The images wouldn’t leave his head. Over and over again, like some sort of taunting film reel, it played in his mind. If only he’d reached further. If only he’d been able to leap in and somehow save her, instead of just crying and yelling helplessly throughout the trial and the execution…

Reality hit Saihara again like cold water to the face: Akamatsu Kaede was dead. Unmistakably, irreversibly dead.

_And it was all his fault._

Saihara wasn’t stupid; he knew when mental illness exaggerated his thoughts. But after everything that had happened today… it didn’t feel like something he could avoid.

_Today,_ he realized with a start. _Wow._ All of this had happened over the course of the same day. 

How sickening.

Numb... A persistent, passive numbness spread all throughout Saihara as he walked, zombie-like, to the only place he could think would give him reprieve. 

His dorm room was off limits. The misery and depression in his mind was strong-- so strong that Saihara felt he might get the urge to drown himself in the shower, or strangle himself with the bedsheets. 

The cafeteria, warehouse, and Iruma’s lab were also all to be avoided, just because there were too many sharp or dangerous tools in all those places. He didn’t trust himself around them, not when he was feeling so… fragile.

The casino… there just wasn’t anything there. Aunt Sonomi had always told him horror stories about people who threw themselves into gambling or alcoholism and lost everything they had, and Uncle Shuhei had always backed her up with anecdotes about some of his past clients who had gone down that path after their infidelity cases…

Saihara shivered. No, not the casino.

Akamatsu’s lab… he did want to go there. He’d probably end up taking Momota’s advice. But first… he had somewhere else in mind.

The place where Saihara decided to go would be worse than the casino, definitely. More indulgent. More kind. A gentle lie; more soft, more escapist.

Just as Monokuma had said, when Saihara got to the door, there was an electronic screen waiting for him, already having recognized his face.

WELCOME, [[SHUICHI SAIHARA]].

PICK A LOVER.

It was almost funny how a few minutes ago, he’d damned her to hell by clicking on her face. Here he was now, doing it all over again.

_“I don’t think anyone here would be deranged enough to go have fun in there.”_

Saihara sucked in a breath. This wasn’t for fun, he reminded himself. This was a final goodbye. His last chance at hearing her voice and seeing her happy face, untainted by the dark execution.

Once he’d tapped on the icon with Akamatsu on it, the selection screen dissolved, leaving only a small buffering circle to signal the room behind the door loading.

When it had finished, Saihara opened the door to the Love Hotel.

_...I’m sorry, Akamatsu-san._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha..... angst central..... [finger guns]
> 
> me blabbing stuff! go!!
> 
> 1\. i HATE how kaito punches shuichi in canon, so i changed it up. like HELLO DID YOU NOT SEE HIM SOBBING HIS EYES OUT OVER HIS BEST FRIEND. PUNCHING PEOPLE FOR INSPIRATION ISN'T THE ANSWER WHEN THEY'RE ALREADY VULNERABLE. THIS ISN'T AN ACTION ANIME KAITO. HHHH
> 
> 2\. i also really dislike that in canon, kaede was... well. crushed. i guess it neatly parallels the whole "female mc slash primary love interest gets crushed" thing with chiaki and kirigiri but all it did was add blood and gore and shock value to something that was already shocking and upsetting... and i just didn't like it? so that doesn't happen in this AU.
> 
> 3\. the key of love doesn't exist in this AU just because,,,,, I didn't think there'd be much of a point in making saihara play games to win it? it's a videogame function, and it just doesn't really adapt as easily to prose fic when i try to picture it in my head. shrug emoji
> 
> 4\. this next thing with the love hotel makes me Cringe but it's also pretty necessary for plot development down the line, so It Must Be Done. rip
> 
> I hope this chapter was enjoyable even through the ridiculously high levels of angst? ahaha... The next chapter will be the last chapter in Section 1. once again, prepare tissues;;;; and I'll see you guys on Thursday!


	10. 1-9. If We Were Meant to be A Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akamatsu is the catalyst to everything, but when will her words really sink in?
> 
> Two cut-short friendships fuel two boys to move forward, but won't they still make mistakes down the line?
> 
> A lurking predator makes themselves known, but who are they really talking to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't as angsty as i was thinking it would be, but as the author, i'm sort of used to seeing my own written angst in the drafts.... so. make of that what you will (????) keep tissues at hand just in case.
> 
> on another note, <strike>even though it's TECHNICALLY still wednesday/oct 30th in my time zone,</strike> happy halloween! it's super cold and rainy where i live (rip) and this chapter isn't all that spooky in the least, but i hope it's still entertaining! thank you all for sticking with me so far on this fic <333
> 
> without further ado, here's 1-9.

The room was different from what Saihara had been expecting. 

It looked less like a hotel and more like an ordinary teenage girl’s bedroom. The walls were a light pink color; there were shelves with trophies and medals lined up on them and several posters of famous composers here and there. A keyboard was neatly pushed against the one wall that had a window on it. The window’s blinds were shut.

_Am I in Akamatsu-san’s bedroom…?_ Saihara took a step forward, pausing.God, the room even_ smelled_ like her. The smell of warm, gentle maple wood…

“You forgot what day it is today, didn’t you?”

Saihara snapped his head over to the source.

Akamatsu was standing right in front of her bed, hands on her hips, a somewhat disappointed look on her face.

Saihara sucked in a breath. 

(‘Disappointed’ was a much better look on her than ‘dead’.)

“I…” his tongue felt twisted. What could he even say in this situation?

She sighed, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face. “It’s okay… my friends told me boys would be like this. I’m more used to girls, but… it’s alright. It’s only our first, so you get a free pass.”

_Boys? Used to girls? ‘Our first’?_ Saihara’s head spun. Then he remembered. _Right, the Love Hotel. I’m just in their ideal scenario, and I need to make them happy..._

He walked towards her, still a little dazed. “Um-- I’m--” he sighed. “I’m sorry, Akamatsu-san. A lot’s been going on, so…”

Akamatsu pouted. “It’s our one-year anniversary, though…”

Saihara flushed, startled. “A-Anniversary--?!”

A voice in the back of his mind chided him. _Don’t act surprised! It’s her biggest fantasy, that’s why she’s talking so weirdly--_

“Even if we couldn’t do anything super special, I still wanted you to say it…” Akamatsu bit her lip, cheeks a rosy pink color.

“Say… what?” Saihara’s mind felt so much slower in here. Either that, or he was still reeling from seeing Akamatsu perfectly alive and well. It was jarring...

“I--” Akamatsu turned positively crimson. She let herself fall back on her bed, angrily ruffling her own hair, then covered her face with her hands. “God, do I really have to say it?! I was even the one who confessed to you first…”

“I’m sorry, Akamatsu-san, but I really don’t--” Saihara began, but Akamatsu interrupted.

“How long do I have to wait until you call me Kaede?” she peeked at him from between her fingers, voice cracking.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Please stand up,” Saihara whispered. “I… I want to look at you properly... Kaede.” 

_She’s alive. She’s right here in front of me. _Being so assertive was strangely euphoric, but no matter what, Saihara wanted to stay with her longer. Akamatsu let out an _‘eep’,_ standing up. 

“Kaede,” Saihara whispered again. All earlier hesitance he’d had went out the window. His voice was full of awe.

...And yet, his heart felt stunningly empty.

_It’s not real. This is a simulation. She’s dead, and I’ve lost all real chances of connecting. If only I’d just sucked it up and called her Kaede back when she’d suggested it before the trial..._

_I feel like crying again._

Akamatsu gasped; Saihara was startled out of his thoughts. “W-What?”

“Nothing, I’m just… surprised.” Akamatsu grinned from ear to ear, still blushing. She touched her cheeks. “And happy.” She giggled, then leapt onto him in a hug.

“A-Ah, _careful--!” _Saihara yelped, stumbling a bit backwards. 

Akamatsu pouted a bit more, coyly blowing air into Saihara’s ear. “At least hug me back... Sheesh...”

Too flustered to even think of a coherent response, Saihara obediently brought his arms up and wrapped them around her. “Sorry, Kaede…” 

“You’re being pretty compliant today, huh,” Akamatsu giggled into his shoulder. “I’m happy, though. I’ve wanted you to call me Kaede for ages...” She paused. “Can… can you hear my heartbeat?”

Saihara nodded mutely. “Yes, Kaede.” God, he’d say her name as many times as she wanted him to...

She laughed again, and Saihara’s heart shot up into his throat, wishing that he could hear that sound again a million times over. 

(Instead of the noise of that cacophonous Flea Waltz, mishmashed keys and choking gasps and tears leaking out of her eyes--)

“I can hear yours too,” she whispered giddily. “Ehehe. It’s my favorite melody. It’s like a warm, soft embrace… Like the one we’re in right now, but better, y’know? Better than any other melody could make me feel…” She hesitated, then smiled. “You play my heart better than I play the piano.”

“Is… Is that so,” Saihara said, feeling somewhat numb again.

Akamatsu sighed wistfully. “Playing piano always gives me this sorta… this sorta euphoric catharsis, y’know? That emotional release that you finally get after ages and ages of buildup… I feel more relaxed doing it.” She giggled. “And I get that same feeling whenever I’m with the people I care about, like you.”

“Kaede,” Saihara’s voice cracked. “I… I don’t…”

This… was wrong. It was too romantic-- too _perfect. _

...Had she even once called him by name?

She pulled away from the hug, then frowned, poking his cheek. “You’re still sad, aren’t you…”

“I’m sorry,” Saihara said. His heart pounded. “I… I know it’s our…” he winced. “I know it’s our anniversary, but…” he laughed, self-deprecating. “I’m really just not having a good day today...”

_Understatement of the century,_ he thought.

“What’s wrong?” Akamatsu asked curiously. “We can talk about it, if you want.”

That… was a surprise.

“I…” Saihara hesitated. If he let this Fantasy-Akamatsu know about the real killing game, would the fantasy end? Would she realize that this was all more or less a dream? How did the mechanics of the Love Hotel even work?

“You can tell me anything,” Akamatsu smiled.

_“It’s not an ultimatum, Saihara-kun!” _

She placed a tender hand on his own, an echo of her encouragement from earlier that day. “I’m here for you, okay? I’m your girlfriend. So don’t run away from your problems.”

_“All of us are trapped here, so face your fears head on!”_

_“Keep your chin up, okay?”_

_“End this killing game, no matter what it takes.”_

_“I’ll always be supporting you…”_

“I--” he furiously rubbed his eyes, praying that his voice wouldn’t choke up. “I care about you a lot,” he confessed. “So I really, really don’t want to lose you--”

(_“--again”,_ he didn’t say.)

“You won’t!” Akamatsu laughed incredulously. “You won’t.” She hugged Saihara again, squeezing extremely tight. 

“Ow, ow!” Saihara winced. “Kaede, what--”

Akamatsu grinned. “I’m never gonna let you go! Got it?! I love you too, so you’re stuck with me! Don’t you ever forget it!”

Saihara’s mouth opened, then closed wordlessly. He smiled. “Got it.”

(It was a wobbly smile, but surely it’d do.)

“I’m glad,” Akamatsu smiled as she let go. “I feel like we’re closer now… Even though we didn’t go out or do something extra special, it was a good anniversary after all.” She beamed. “Thank you.”

The room slowly began to fade away. 

_Wait-- wait, no, that can’t be it. That’s it? That’s all the time we have together? I don’t want to leave yet--_

“Kaede--” Saihara tried to call out, but the scenario had finished.

Akamatsu’s smiling face was the last thing Saihara saw.

=

And when Saihara woke up, mysteriously back in his dorm room, his pillow was soaked with tears.

“Ugh…” He rubbed his eyes, then looked at his watch. _Two in the morning…_

It wasn’t… It wasn’t that late. He had time to make one last visit.

The Love Hotel wasn’t enough. Seeing her, hearing her, feeling her-- it wasn’t enough… His heart positively ached with the weight of all his memories of Akamatsu.

But he couldn’t go back into the same scenario twice. 

Saihara got up, pushing aside the bedcovers, and left his dorm room in a daze. Dazed from seeing her again, drunk on nostalgia, whatever it was-- his heart still hurt. Worse, his head hurt too. Even remembering bits and pieces of conversations that Akamatsu had with him in this academy while she was still alive made it hurt.

Luckily for Saihara, Akamatsu’s lab was still open. Once he reached the piano-themed door, he went in.

Just like Akamatsu’s bedroom in the Love Hotel, Akamatsu’s lab had a lot of her personality. It wasn’t decorated in pink, but music paraphernalia was all over the walls. 

Saihara went to the majestic grand piano in the center of the room, then began walking around it, dragging a finger softly over the polished wood as he observed the rest of his surroundings. Everything was exactly as he and Akamatsu had left it earlier that week. Nothing had been displaced or touched. 

Saihara made his way to the vast collection of music recordings on the shelves. What was the piece she’d mentioned… Clair de Lune? Rifling through the records, he at last found it, then walked to the record player and put in the disc.

He pressed play, letting the soft music caress him. He could almost picture Akamatsu right now, playing this very song on the piano.

_ Oh, darling… You feel guilty, don’t you? _

Saihara startled, nearly dropping the record cover in his hand. He whirled around. “Who’s there?”

_ It’s your fault she died. That up until her last moments, she hated herself, believing she was a murderer… _

This… was different from the self-loathing voices in his head. Who-- or what-- was this?

_ You can act as indifferent as you please… Pretend all of it is an ugly lie… But you can’t kill reality. She’s dead. _

_ You get it now, right? There’s no point in living. No point in fighting or trying to thrive… Not when you’re all trapped in a little box like this. Not when everyone is helpless to the ills of human nature under stress... _

Saihara’s breathing grew heavier, and his headache suddenly grew stronger. What was going on? Why was this whispering voice--

_Help me make this experiment of mine a success. Help me make this killing game the best one yet. You know what you’re doing. You can’t take it back. Accept your new self..._

Saihara groaned, clutching his head as his knees buckled again.

_ **manipulated** _

** _SNAP OUT OF IT_ **

** _leave his lab_ **

** _PROTECT YOU GUYS_ **

** _it’s pointless_ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

_ You can’t escape me. None of you can. As long as you’re in this school, on this lovely set, I’ll always be by your side. _

_Ahaha. AHAHAHAHAHAAA--_

“Leave me _alone,_ goddammit,” Saihara choked. “I know it’s my fault…”

_All I want is for Kaede to be alive again. For her to never have died. For everyone’s efforts to protect each other to not have been in vain..._

(The recording of Clair de Lune played on, completely unaware of his pain.)

“Kaede,” Saihara cried, teardrops leaking out of his eyes and streaming down his face again. _“Kaede…”_

=

And after the voice was done laughing, she felt the touch of ghostly cold, practical arms wrapping around her, the faint taunting whispers brushing past her ear.

(Or did she?)

_ You understand, don’t you? _

She nodded mutely, rooted to the spot. The smart, fresh smell of mint and diluted perfume suddenly strengthened, pervading all of her senses. 

(Real? Fake? Truth? Lies? A dream? Should she even dare to--) 

_Good girl…_

She shivered. Whether the voice was a sharp, suave order or a calm, quiet coo, it always struck a chord of fear in her heart.

_ Thank you for understanding, sweetie. There’s no point in struggling. Just relax and let the show go on,..  _

“There’s no point,” she repeated plainly, ignoring the desperate, crying voice in her head that said otherwise. “The show… will go on…”

=

Saihara wiped the last of his tears away and turned off the recording of Clair de Lune, carefully putting the disc back in its cover and the cover back in its place on the shelf.

_Was that... the mastermind’s voice?_ Saihara couldn’t help but wonder. It was a disembodied voice, like the ones he’d hear from the memory headaches. And he certainly felt like it was a familiar voice…

Something about it… felt chillingly familiar…

He shook his head. If he thought harder about it, his head would hurt even more than it already did, both from the memory headaches and from all the crying he’d done. The migraine was downright painful.

Saihara sighed. _This… really only made me feel worse, in the end... _

_But even so… I did it because I wanted to. _

He bit his lip, determined despite the heartache. Even if Akamatsu’s death was his fault… he’d go on. He’d live on and atone for it by trying to find an end to the game, through whatever means necessary-- no quick plans, no schemes to kill the mastermind, none of that. Saihara would find a way for everyone to help end it on their own terms.

_After all… Honoring Kaede’s last request is the least I could do._

=

Meanwhile, Ouma Kokichi had been trying to get into another room of his own.

In general, it would’ve been a bad idea for him to snoop around Amami’s lab during the investigation. But now that the trial was over with and everyone was (he could only assume) fast asleep, he had a chance to go back there and get the things he needed.

_“Don’t forget your birthday, yeah? Or your name.”_

Ouma had noticed that little vault and its dual passcode, and he’d be an idiot if he hadn’t noticed the way Amami was fiddling with it and asking Ouma for personal details. There was no mistake: the password that hid what Amami wanted Ouma to look at in case he died was Ouma’s name and birthday. All Ouma had to do was open it, get whatever was inside, and use it to stop this killing game before any more people could die.

He snuck past the blocked upper floors once again, silently padding towards the tell-tale bloody red door he remembered…

...only to be stopped by a concrete wall blocking where it should’ve been. Next to the wall was the green robot bear-- Monodam? Whatever, Ouma hated those things. 

“S-T-I-L-L U-N-D-E-R C-O-N-S-T-R-U-C-T-I-O-N,” Monodam beeped at him.

“Whaaat?” Ouma whispered curiously, playing along like he was talking to a small child. “No way. Really? That’s no fair! I really wanted to go inside!”

“S-T-I-L-L U-N-D-E-R C-O-N-S-T-R-U-C-T-I-O-N,” Monodam repeated.

“That’s super weird, though,” Ouma’s eyes sparkled. “How can it be under construction when it was totally open before?” 

“S-T-I-L-L U-N-D-E-R C-O-N-S-T-R-U-C-T-I-O-N.”

_Oh, quit the bullshit._

“Awww, why?!” Ouma pretended to cry and throw a tantrum. “Let me in! Pleeeeease let me in! Please please please please please please pl--”

“L-E-A-V-E O-R I W-I-L-L K-I-L-L Y-O-U,” Monodam beeped, looking a bit more angry than normal.

_Shit._ Yeah, no, Ouma wasn’t gonna push it. Not tonight.

He fake cried again and skipped away without actually saying any coherent words, leaving the green robot to guard the place for the night. Once away from the fifth floor, Ouma crept back to the dorms.

_Probably about 2 AM right now,_ he thought. He went inside his room and carefully closed it, then slid down the door.

Ouma screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

_Annoying. Annoying. Annoying._

How much longer would it be before he could go back to Amami’s lab and carry out what Amami wanted him to do?

Ouma opened his eyes again, staring straight ahead. 

For starters, he’d visit the Love Hotel. Monokuma told him how it worked, and if he wanted any information that Amami hadn’t already given him, it could be somehow embedded in his scenario. Since Amami didn’t have amnesia like the rest of them, maybe his biggest fantasy involved the memories that everyone else had forgotten.

Ouma got up, mentally preparing himself. He’d only have one shot at the scenario.

He walked out of his dorm room again. It was crisp and cool outside, and the wind (wait, wind?) blew through his hair as he decided what he’d do with whatever information he got.

He reached the door and was met with the same electronic panel Monokuma had informed him of.

WELCOME, [[KOKICHI OUMA]].

PICK A LOVER.

=

And when Ouma woke up, mysteriously back in his dorm room, he buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated scream.

_Goddammit. That didn’t tell me anything._

When he was done screaming, Ouma flopped over and turned on the bedside lamp, taking out his journal from the drawer he’d kept it in and clicking open his pen.

_Even if the Love Hotel was a bust… It’s about time I write some notes._

He’d start writing files on everyone and everything in this academy. Profiles on all the people and data on all the locations and objects. Not a single inch would be left unscrutinized when he was finished. He’d get a whiteboard from the warehouse and print pictures and everything. He had to take everything into account if he wanted to understand the killing game.

Ouma would put the pieces together and find the truth, and create the perfect plan to end the game as he did it. 

_After all… Honoring Rantaro’s last request is the least I could do. _

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END SECTION 1.
> 
> The mysteries and parallels keep piling on, don't they... Predictability of the plot aside, I hope I don't write myself into a plot hole. 
> 
> (I'm only half joking.)
> 
> Section 2 starts next week. See you all then, and thank you for reading!


	11. 2-1. Distrust, Mistrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New rooms.
> 
> New memories.
> 
> Same fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long chapter!! and i gotta rush to class, I'm running late, but I hope you guys enjoy it (and whatever new revelations it may bring!)

“Come out, little bugs… no more hiding…”

Gonta frowned, peering through a patch of grass only to find it equally as empty as all the others he’d checked. He sighed, a bit sad. “So weird… There’s plenty of trees. And grass and water and sun… but no _bugs_. Why?”

He cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling. “PLEASE COME OUT, BUGS! GONTA WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO YOU!”

He kept his ears open, listening intently.

Nothing.

Gonta sighed again, utterly dejected. “They’re not there…” Then, he noticed something small and grayish in the grass.

“What’s this…?” his curiosity piqued, he bent down to inspect it. A flat rock with writing on it. 

Gonta furrowed his brows. “Words…?”

h or s e

a

=

_Ding-dong._

Saihara turned over in bed.

_Ding-dong ding-dong._

He pulled the covers over his head and let out a whining noise, burying his face in his pillow in an attempt to block out the sound.

_Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong--_

“AGH--” Saihara threw the blanket off himself, shivering as he headed to his closet to put on proper clothes. “W-Who is it?! I’m coming, I’m coming, just knock that off--”

Once he threw on his clothes, he opened the door and was met with the sight of Momota, who had a guilty finger poised over the doorbell. 

“M-Momota-kun?” Saihara rubbed his eyes, fighting back a yawn. “Agh… What is it…”

Momota stared at him, appearing to have forgotten why he showed up. “You… look different without your hat.”

Saihara touched his head, confused, before remembering that he’d never taken his hat off around the others in all his time here. He flushed. “Well… Obviously I don’t sleep in it…”

Momota grinned. “Nah, that makes sense. The bedhead’s cute.” He pointed at Saihara’s collar. “You mis-buttoned.”

Saihara looked down. “Ah…” He moved to button his gakuran collar properly, face even redder.

Momota stretched. “It’s been two days since the trial, dude. If you weren’t awake in your room just for the sake of being alone, then I guess you must’ve been totally passed out the whole time.”

Saihara blanched. “Huh?”

Momota rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You were really affected by… what happened. Your eyes were darker ‘n baggier than goths with emo eye-makeup on… and no offense, but you looked like a total wreck. So none of us wanted to bother you…” He leaned in to whisper. “Plus, we all sorta got this weird feeling you were the cranky type.”

Saihara paused, impressed. It was true, he could get fairly cranky when woken up against his will. He hated being disturbed from sleep, since he didn’t get that much of it as a detective’s apprentice. But why were the others able to tell?

“Anyway,” Momota coughed, strengthening his voice. “Wanna go to the cafeteria with me? The others are having breakfast, and I was gonna join them, but you still weren’t up, so...”

“...Sure,” Saihara accepted. He paused, turning around to look at his hat, left behind on his bedside table.

Momota must have followed his line of sight, because he raised a brow. “...You gonna take it with you?”

“No…” Saihara shook his head, running a few fingers through his hair to make up for combing it. “I… I don’t think I need it anymore.” He gave Momota a small smile. “Let’s go.”

=

Ouma nearly dropped his spoon mid-bite when Saihara walked into the cafeteria.

_Oh no, he’s cute._

The others must’ve been thinking something similar, since all conversation and action in the cafeteria stopped when he walked in.

(Not that there was much of that to begin with.)

‘G-Good morning...” Saihara greeted awkwardly. He reached up to his head, then immediately brought his arm down to the side, fingers fidgeting as he looked somewhat demurely off to the side-- he forgot he wasn’t wearing his hat anymore, and clearly he still wasn’t used to eye contact or a big group’s attention on him.

_Still, _a little voice in Ouma’s head protested. _Cute._

He shook the thought out of his head. _Focus._ Attractive or not, Saihara could be dangerous. Ouma would have to rile up everyone if he wanted to get the information he wanted…

“OH WOW, SAIHARA-CHAN,” Ouma said loudly. “DID YOU DITCH THE HAT ‘CUZ AKAMATSU-CHAN DIED OR WHATEVER?”

Internally, he winced. Sure, it was mean and tactless, but it was just some basic reverse psychology.

(His headache worsened, and the smell of antiseptic got faintly stronger in his nostrils at the thought.)

Chabashira moved to slap him; he ducked under the table and came out through the other end. She tsked. “Freaking _degenerate…_ you don’t say that kinda thing to someone who just…”

Hoshi sighed. “Figures…”

Toujo sniffed. “Don’t be rude, Ouma-kun.”

“Aww, but it’s true, isn’t it?” he jutted his bottom lip out in a pout.

“Ouma-kun, please be nice…” Gonta knit his brows. “Saihara-kun is our friend…”

“It’s okay, everyone,” Saihara said. He smiled awkwardly. “He’s right. She… I wanted to move forward after what Kaede said to me. The hat’s just the first step.”

Ouma blinked. He didn’t actually think it’d work.

_Still… ‘Kaede’, huh? _

“If you’re okay with it, Saihara-kun, then I suppose it’s alright,” Shinguji accepted. He was standing off to the corner, presumably already having finished eating before everyone else.

Iruma slammed her glass of milk down, letting out a burp. “Gotta empty those plastic jugs to make _these_ jugs even bigger, amirite?” she cackled, motioning towards her chest.

Kiibo choked on his water, reddening. 

“I-Iruma-san, don’t be so crass!” Chabashira chided, aghast. “Your body is a temple! You have to be nicer to it!”

“Nyeh... forget temples!” Yumeno scowled. “Iruma!” she demanded. “Apologize to every cow in the world! You’re basically stealing their mana!”

“Oh come on, you can’t even take a basic tit joke?” Iruma groaned. “Not to mention, witch bitch, this is _milk._ Cow’s milk. Made of calcium and minerals ‘n shit.” She pronounced the next few words slowly, as if talking to a five year old. “There is _no such thing_ as mana.”

“Is too!” Yumeno protested angrily.

Iruma grit her teeth. “For fuck’s sake, is not--”

“S-Stop fighting, everyone--” Shirogane begged.

“Cows don’t even drink the milk they produce, you idiots…” Harukawa sighed, massaging her temple.

“Nyahahaha! You guys are divinely disastrous!” Angie laughed. She finished the last of her drink, holding up the empty glass. “Kirumiiii! More juice, please!”

“Right away,” Toujo nodded quickly, bowing before she stepped back into the kitchen.

They _were _disasters, in Ouma’s opinion. They were turning a blind eye to Amami and Akamatsu’s deaths, as if avoiding the matter and acting cheery would make it go away. He was the only one who was actually thinking of escape.

Maybe he was overthinking it, but there was unbelievable tension in the room. A quiet discord, still heavy from the weight of their leader and the one person who had answers dying. 

...Somehow, Ouma would have to change that.

=

Conversation continued nonetheless as more and more people finished their food. Iruma had left to ‘go work some new shit’. The others were mostly sitting for the sake of not leaving Saihara alone; Saihara did his best to quickly eat the Western breakfast Toujo had whipped up for him so as to not inconvenience them.

“A-Anyways,” Gonta cleared his throat. “Gonta thinks the rock was suspicious! We should all go look at it some more.”

“God is telling me that Gonta’s hunch may be right,” Angie hummed. “We should all go, now that Shuichi’s here too!”

“Now that I’m here we should go what now?” Saihara asked, furrowing his brows as he swallowed his last bite of buttered toast.

“Are you guys still talking about that graffiti?” Momota asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Man, just forget it… “S prolly some clown’s prank or something.” He looked pointedly towards Ouma.

“Ouma-kun does give off the aura of a ‘clown’, doesn’t he,” Shinguji commented drolly. “Perhaps it’s merely a part of his… mmh… _trickster _nature…”

“Back where I’m from, we just call that being an asshole,” Momota frowned. Hoshi snorted.

“Well, that’s rude, Momota-chan,” Ouma pouted, eyes watering with crocodile tears. “Graffiti isn’t my style.” His face shifted, suddenly a devilish grin. “Nishishi… but pickpocketing is.”

“Huh?” The color drained from Momota’s face as he felt around his jacket and pants pockets, only to realize they were empty. He pointed accusingly at Ouma. “YOU--”

Ouma cackled, then bolted from the cafeteria. 

Momota swore, immediately getting up to sprint after him. “FUCKING-- GET BACK HERE, OUMA!” he yelled.

“O-Ouma-kun!” Gonta exclaimed. “Stealing is ungentlemanly! Bad and wrong! Give Momota-kun his wallet back, please!”

Ouma’s horse-like laugh echoed down the halls as he ran. “NO WAY, GONTA!”

“It’s like Tom and Jerry, but more purple and stupid,” Yumeno remarked monotonously. Harukawa yawned.

Chabashira scoffed, picking at her nails. “Degenerate males through and through, aren’t they…” She took Yumeno’s hand in hers, giving her a serious look. “Don’t think about them too much, Yumeno-san. You’ll lose the few precious, adorable brain cells you have...”

“I can’t tell if you’re calling me dumb or cute,” Yumeno blinked, not making a move to remove her hand from Chabashira’s grasp. 

Chabashira paused. “Eh, maybe both?” She grinned. “But either way, I do like you!”

Yumeno flushed, fidgeting. “Q-Quit that…”

Both winced. “Huh… Why do I have a headache?” Chabashira muttered. Yumeno groaned softly.

Kiibo sighed. “Well, in any case… Ouma-kun isn’t the malicious type, so he’ll return the wallet soon…” he grimaced. “Probably.”

“What’s this about graffiti and rocks, Gonta-kun?” Saihara steered the subject back onto his question. By now he’d finished his food. He got up to return his dish, but Toujo took it from his hands. “Ah, Toujo-san, you don’t--”

“It is my job as a maid,” she replied naturally. “Though I do appreciate your willingness to help.”

“O-Okay…” Awkwardly, Saihara sat back down. 

“Gonta found a rock in the ground with a weird message on it,” Angie explained. “We all took a look-see, but nobody could really confirm what it was or what it meant or who made it.”

“What was the message?” Saihara asked.

“Weeeeell, God says that it could say something, but the letters were strangely spaced, so it might not be a finished message!”

“It could be an ancient artifact,” Shinguji said, seeming a bit more eager. “And the message just wore off, instead of being modern and unfinished…”

“Or it could be a prank, like Momota said,” Hoshi pointed out.

“Breakfast is done, then,” Toujo announced, finally back from doing the dishes. She smoothed out her dress. “Shall we go to the rock to show Saihara-kun what the fuss is all about?”

Everyone nodded, getting up.

Saihara followed them.

=

The rock was strange. 

Momota had managed to catch Ouma and get his wallet back. The two of them soon met up with everyone else, minus Iruma, at the rock.

“It says ‘horse A’ in English,” Momota explained a bit pointlessly. “If it’s a finished message, I guess. Dunno who wrote it, though…”

“Someone who knows English, duh,” Yumeno said flatly.

Hoshi shifted his eyes, wary. “Yeah. Which is why I think it could be either Momota or Shinguji, if it’s not a prank by someone else.”

“We’re all… presumably high schoolers,” Shinguji said, wincing. “All of us should know a decent enough amount of English to write something as basic as ‘horse A’ into a rock, if it is something from one of us…”

“I... I think he’s right,” Shirogane piped up quietly.

“Hm…” Saihara touched the rock, looking at it from different angles. “I… I really don’t know. It’s too early to say what it is or what it means now…” He got up, brushing his knees. 

“So you think we should just waste our time and wait, huh?” Ouma grinned. “That’s cool! We’ll all die in the meantime, Saihara-chan, no worries!”

Saihara looked to the side, embarrassed. “T-That’s not what I meant…”

“That was uncalled for,” Toujo frowned.

“Yeah, don’t be mean to him!” Momota scowled.

Ouma giggled. “Nishishi… sure, sure.”

=

On top of Momota’s wallet not having the mastermind’s key card in it, Saihara didn’t recognize what Horse A referred to, either.

That meant Ouma’s little thief game and his code were busts. Nobody else showed signs of recognition or fear when they looked at it-- just confusion or neutrality. 

But he’d sort of expected it. There’s no way he’d be able to figure things out as easily as this.

Ouma could pick normal locks, but hacking key cards was outside of his expertise. Momota was the only one here who actually had a wallet where a key card could be hidden, and none of the labs had any secret areas to get in from…

_...Well, I don’t know about my own. And there’s always dorm rooms to check..._

Still, Ouma didn’t want to get caught. He’d have to go with his longer-term plan after all.

_Operation ‘Make Myself As Seemingly Evil As Possible Over The Period Of Time We’re Stuck Here’ it is._

=

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Monokuma suddenly burst out behind them; everyone startled. Monokuma brightened. “Oh, Saihara! You’re actually conscious! What a shame!”

“...”

“Now that everyone’s wide awake,” Monokuma paused meaningfully, “I can let you know that we’ve opened up the next floor, and some blocked rooms from the first floor! Go wild!”

And then he left. Everyone looked at each other, bewildered. 

“Sh--” Hoshi blinked. “Should we actually--?”

“I… guess?” Shinguji furrowed his brows. 

“T-That was very sudden…” Shirogane stuttered, placing a hand over her heart. Toujo placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

“I think it would be worth at least giving a try,” Kiibo suggested.

Harukawa sniffed, already walking back to the main building. “Might as well. New rooms means new places we might be able to escape from.”

Chabashira’s eyes sparkled. “Yumeno-san, let’s explore together!”

“Nn… Fine, I guess…”

And so they all walked back, spreading out into different directions to explore.

=

As it turned out, a lot more places were open now than there were before the first trial.

_The Ultimate Maid’s lab…_ Toujo ran a gloved finger over the dining table, then looked at it. Not a single speck of dust. 

Sitting on the chairs in front of the dining table were dummies dressed in fancy clothing. There was an additional kitchen and laundry area, as well as multiple vacuums and dusters and other cleaning supplies in the closets. Truly, the place was a maid’s dream come true.

(It wasn’t Toujo’s, though.)

This whole academy was awfully strange. Why were there rooms tailored to-- presumably, since not all were unlocked yet-- only the sixteen of them? Not to mention, the memory headaches were troublesome as well…

This whole entire thing was troublesome, now that she thought about it. Everyone being-- kidnapped? And trapped here. How long would they be trapped? How long would the murders go on?

She’d have to plan a lot more meals if they were to stay for a long time. And clean more, and generally serve more. Doubly so if people were to actually survive, instead of being murdered or executed…

Toujo shook the morbid thought out of her head. _Mustn’t think badly…_

She sighed, walking about in a circle around the grand dining table. Toujo hated rest; she had to be moving somehow or else it didn’t feel right. Her hands fidgeted inside their gloves, as if trying to grab something to do.

She wished she wasn’t like this. She was only-- what, fifteen? Or was she older…? No, wait… She let out a grumbling noise as she pinched her nose, head suddenly filled with pain and nostrils suddenly overcome with the smell of cleaning supplies.

“Ah, Toujo-san, is this your lab?” a quiet voice spoke. Toujo immediately whipped around, folding her arms in front of her and standing up properly, back ramrod straight. A small smile plastered itself on her face.

“Yes, Saihara-kun,” she replied, dipping her head slightly in a bow. Not that it really mattered-- the boy in question was already off to the side inspecting the various elements of her lab, hardly giving her a glance. “I do believe so.”

“Mm…” Saihara looked around the lab, appearing to notice each object. “It definitely looks like an Ultimate Maid’s lab.”

“Indeed.”

It was honestly somewhat unsettling, the way Saihara observed things. His eyes were alert; his gaze was probing. His thoughts must’ve carefully noted each and every single detail of each and every little thing in the room, closing them up in that mysterious little detective brain of his. 

Of course, he wasn’t perfect. The first trial was a testament to his humanity.

(But even Toujo Kirumi had things that made her uncomfortable, regardless of whether or not she was a supermaid.)

She cleared her throat, tilting her head in practiced concern. “Is there something the matter, Saihara-kun?”

“UWAH--” Saihara startled, practically leaping in the air like a terrified fawn in a forest. Toujo would’ve laughed if she didn’t have a reputation to maintain. His ears turned pink. “S-Sorry, I got caught up in looking…” he scratched his cheek. “This lab is just… cool, I think.”

_Should I ask him if he’d like to be served somehow, or would that be overstepping my boundaries…? This is technically the Ultimate Maid’s lab, after all, so it wouldn’t be strange of me to offer--_

“It doesn’t look like there’s any room for escape here, though,” he mused. He held up a hand in a ‘see you later’ gesture. “I’ll go check out some of the other rooms. Thank you for letting me look around.”

“Ah…” Toujo snapped out of her thoughts. She bowed. “Of course. In that case, I will see you another time, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara nodded, smiling as he left. “Bye, Toujo-san.”

Toujo let out a sigh as soon as the door closed. 

_Alone at last…_

=

Tennis pissed Hoshi off.

Seeing the nets strung up in his lab, the ball throwing machines, the rackets… It all pissed him off.

(Maybe that had to do with the _whooshing_ noise in his head, like the sound of a swinging racket, that happened every time he got those memory headaches. Maybe it was because tennis stuff itself always seemed to give him memory headaches.)

A loud gasp near the door alerted Hoshi to the presence of others. “Ooohhhh, so this is Ryouma’s lab!”

“Angie, huh,” he acknowledged her before he could stop himself. “What’re you doing here…?”

Angie tilted her head, permanent grin on her face. “Hmmm? Why, exploring, of course,” she explained. “God says we have to look carefully at all the new places to get a better understanding of this academy!”

_Better keep quiet the fact that I’m an atheist,_ Hoshi thought drily. _She’ll never let me hear the end of it..._

Angie wandered around, flitting from object to object like a bumblebee in a field of flowers. “That aside though~” She picked up a racket and ball. “Let’s play, Ryouma!”

“Huh?”

The _smack! _of a ball being hit followed immediately by the whizzing noise it made as it barely brushed past Hoshi’s body finally put his senses on overdrive. He narrowed his eyes. “So that’s your game, eh?” he said, smiling lopsidedly as he picked up a racket. “Didn’t take you for the athletic type.”

“Nyahaha!” Angie giggled. “We play a similar game on Angie’s island. Plus, none of us have exercised since we got here!”

A fast-paced match began. The rushing from end to end of the court, the thrill of barely managing to hit the ball to the other side to keep the volleys going-- Hoshi had almost forgotten it in the time he’d been trapped.

...It felt pretty good, actually.

The game ended when Angie’s muscles cramped and she missed the match point; evidently, her “liberal arts-oriented body” wasn’t suited for full length tennis matches. Once they were done, Hoshi heard a low whistle from the other end of the room.

Momota was standing there, an impressed grin on his face as he slow clapped. “Damn, I haven’t seen you play that well since--” he winced. “Since…”

That whooshing noise was there again in Hoshi’s head. He grit his teeth. “Since when?”

“Dunno… middle school?” Momota sounded vaguely nauseous. “F-Fuck, I can’t think straight…”

“Neither can I!” Iruma announced proudly from her position on the ground. She sat cross-legged in front of one of the tennis ball pitching machines, in the middle of taking it apart. She put a screwdriver in her mouth and rolled up her sleeves to reveal incredibly toned, muscular arms, then used all her strength to wrench apart the metal panels.

Saihara, who was standing nearby, blinked. “Did-- did you just come out?” 

Iruma waggled her eyebrows and pumped a bicep, screwdriver still in her mouth. “Pahfeckswull, bay-bee. Looketh ees gunth.”

Saihara looked even more confused, furrowing his brows. “Pan deck swole baby, look at these guns?”

Iruma yanked the screwdriver from her mouth in irritation, making an obscene gesture with it. _“Pansexual,_ you absolute moron--”

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god,” Momota wheezed, stumbling a bit. “’m too dizzy to deal with y’all’s shit…” he clutched his head and groaned. “Goddammit, these memories always make me feel lightheaded…”

Hoshi sighed. “Well, whatever. Pack it up, gang. You’ve seen everything there is to see here.”

Saihara scrambled. “Ah, wait, Hoshi-kun! What about the door in the back? Is there another room there?” he motioned his head in its general direction.

Hoshi raised a brow, following Saihara’s gesture. “Dunno. It wasn’t open for some reason.”

Saihara covered his mouth pensively, suddenly deep in thought.

Hoshi moved on. Probably he was wondering why it wasn’t open even if it was part of Hoshi’s lab-- a valid thing to be curious about, but Hoshi wasn’t the type to bother being hung up on that. “You can check if you want. I tried it, but it was locked.”

Saihara went and checked; sure enough, it was locked as Hoshi had said. He stared off into space in that same pensive pose after that, as if going through some sort of mental checklist.

“Hey, Virginhara, quit staring at all the fuckin’ tennis balls and let’s go!” Iruma cackled, finally done putting back together the machine she’d dismantled. “I know I’m hot and confident, but just looking at balls ain’t gonna help yours gonna grow any bigger--”

She let out a meek squeak once she saw Saihara’s icy gaze. “Iruma-san,” he said coldly, warningly.

Iruma shivered, looking somehow both aroused and scared. Hoshi blinked, a little surprised. Saihara didn’t seem the type who could-- or even _would--_ stand up for himself, but clearly Iruma had struck a bad chord with the sexual innuendo.

The two of them plus Momota left, evidently satisfied knowing that there wasn’t a way to escape from Hoshi’s lab.

“Ryouuumaaaa,” Angie called from the floor; Hoshi startled, having forgotten that she was still there. “What’s the best remedy for muscle sprains?”

Hoshi raised a brow. “Shouldn’t your God know that?”

Angie paused. Then: “He’s an art god.”

“Uh huh.”

“Focus!” Angie deliberately changed the subject. “Muscle sprains, Ryouma! Muscle sprains!”

Hoshi sighed. “It’s just cramps, not a sprain. They normally pass after a few minutes, but if you wanna get going fast, then you can stretch it off.” He bent down to help her. “Here, lemme show you…”

=

Iruma and Momota had gone back to the main building; meanwhile, Saihara explored the new pool building that had opened up in the courtyard to the side of the main building.

It was spacious. There was a pool and some of those sunbathing chairs. Lawn chairs? Saihara didn’t know what they were called. There was even a skylight. The room smelled of chlorine, but not so much that it overpowered the senses. 

It honestly looked like a mini-paradise within the academy.

“This is the most pathetic pool I’ve ever seen,” Kiibo wrinkled his nose. “I’ve been in this room for quite a while now, and it hasn’t appeared to change in the slightest.

Saihara let out a sigh. _Of course, with just a few egomaniacs here, any semblance of paradise is ruined…_

“What’s your experience with pools, Kiibo-kun?” Saihara asked curiously. He wasn’t the small talk type, but Kiibo was an interesting figure on account of him being a robot.

Kiibo winced. “It’s not quite pools, but rather… Beaches? My inner voice… appears to feel nostalgic looking at the water.”

Saihara peered into the pool. _That’s odd… _“The water’s really low here, though…”

“Exactly!” Kiibo beeped in protest. “You can’t even surf in it! Someone ought to petition the government, or whoever’s in charge of this academy, to improve its facilities!”

Saihara stared at him._ It’s an indoor pool. Forget surfing, you can’t even swim in water like this…_

“Rise and shine, ursine!” a chorus of irritating bear voices chimed together. The Monokubs had arrived.

“We couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, grandpa,” Monophanie said.

Saihara and Kiibo blinked, looking at each other in confusion. _Grandpa…?_

Monophanie latched onto Kiibo’s leg, causing the other robot to shriek. “Huh?! WHY ME?! I-I’m not your grandpa, get off me--!”

“Aww, same old gramps. A total tsundere. Doesn’t like affection on the outside, but secretly totally loves his grandkids on the inside,” Monotaro chuckled. “Sorta like the grandpa from the Saiki K. anime, right?” 

“Ohhhh, I’ve seen that one, I’ve seen that one!!” Monosuke said. “I especially love the Judgement Knights OST, it’s so funny--”

“Why are all of you here?” Saihara interrupted._ I’d rather not get caught up in an anime discussion..._

“P-O-O-L W-A-T-E-R I-S L-O-W B-E-C-A-U-S-E O-F R-U-L-E-S,” Monodam beeped.

“Read the rules, suckers!” Monokid reiterated. 

As Kiibo continued yelling at the Monokubs to get off of him and stop calling him grandpa, Saihara went over to look at the rules posted on the wall.

ABSOLUTELY NO SWIMMING AT NIGHTTIME

DON’T DIE FROM THE FOLLOWING: LEG CRAMP, SLIPPING, CHOKING ON FOOD, ETC.

CAUTION: POOL DEPTH IS 5 METERS (~16.25 FEET) FROM BEGINNING OF WATER LINE

_That’s odd… no swimming at nighttime? And why bother listing the pool depth in anything other than metric when we’re all Japanese…?_

“Everywhere I go, I suffer,” Kiibo grumbled, shaking off the last Monokub. He looked at the rules. “Huh? Why not nighttime?”

“Because it’s daaaark!” Monophanie protested. “And also, you never know who might decide they wanna get frisky in the water!”

Kiibo flushed. “T-That’s disgusting!”

“It’s true, though, gramps!” Monosuke declared. “So, if any living person is caught in the pool water at nighttime, even if it’s just their toes being dipped, they’ll set off an alarm and will be punished accordingly!”

_Wait, any ‘living’ person…?_

“I’m a robot, not your grandpa! Also, that’s cruel and unusual punishment!” Kiibo protested. “People have a right to swim at nighttime if they want to! You can’t just make it illegal--”

“Wait…” Saihara interrupted incredulously, reading the rules again. “The pool is five meters deep starting from the _beginning_ of the water’s surface?” He turned back, looking at the pool in awe. “That’s so deep…”

“Precisely!” Monokid strummed his guitar. “We didn’t want youse chuckleheads accidentally drowning by not realizin’ how deep this pool is, so we made it lower for ya! Ain’t we nice?!”

“T-H-A-T I-S A-L-L,” Monodam said. “D-O-N-’-T D-I-E.”

The Monokubs waved, biding them _“Bear-well!”._

“Well, either way, I’m so heavy that I’ll probably sink,” Kiibo sighed. “It’s a shame. My inner voice says that the beach is fun…”

“Really? You’d sink?” Saihara blinked. “How much do you weigh, Kiibo-kun?” he asked curiously. Almost immediately after, he realized how personal the question was. “A-Ah, only if you’re comfortable--”

“Around 196 pounds, I think?” Kiibo mused. “Since I’m a robot, and all my metal is heavy…”

“So…” Saihara began slowly, wincing. “In kilograms…?”

Kiibo blinked, pausing to do the mental math. “Um… Eighty-nine, I believe.”

_Oh, that makes sense. Yeah, that’s pretty heavy…_

Saihara furrowed his brows._ ...Why was his initial answer not in metric units?_

“At any rate, I wonder what room that window leads to,” Kiibo looked up. “I don’t believe I’ve seen any room that has a window leading to this pool....”

Saihara shook the thoughts out of his head, looking up to where Kiibo was pointing. 

_True,_ he realized. _I’ve never seen a room like that before. Huh…._

“I shall go see if I can find it,” Kiibo decided. He smiled. “See you again, Saihara-kun!”

=

After that, Saihara went back to the main building. He visited a few other labs and hallways, spending some time here and there.

At last, towards the end of the day, he knocked on the door to what he assumed was Harukawa’s lab. The doors were bright red, and didn’t have any decorations on it save for the kanji for ‘Harukawa’ above the doorknob.

“Harukawa-san,” Saihara called. “May I see the inside of your lab?” He’d never actually talked to her before, but surely she’d be cooperative to the exploration. _The Ultimate Child Caregiver’s lab.. is sure to look interesting._

The door opened just a crack, enough for Saihara to see Harukawa and nothing else. Everything else in the room was pitch black. 

_...Huh? Pitch black?_

“Excuse me?” Harukawa glared at him fiercely. “No. None of you are allowed in.”

And then she slammed the door shut.

Saihara blanched. Then, he knocked on the lab door. “Um, Haruka--”

“You. Aren’t. Allowed. Inside,” came the frightening voice from within. “Everyone is banned from here. Now get out and leave me alone. I want privacy.”

_I already am out, though..._

Just then, Momota walked by. “Harukawa, huh…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She did that when I tried going in, too. She’s been holed up in there all day, ever since she found the place…”

Saihara blinked. “All I asked was to explore, but if she doesn’t want to, then I guess…”

“I think Iruma tried forcing her way in earlier, but Harukawa’s stronger. She barricaded herself against the other side. Damn door didn’t even _budge,_ it was fuckin’ hilarious,” Momota grinned. “You should’ve seen Iruma’s face, she was so pissed--”

A brief image of Iruma’s muscular arms ripping apart one of Hoshi’s tennis machines flashed in Saihara’s mind. _Stronger…? A child caregiver is stronger than an inventor who regularly handles heavy metals and technology?_

_Well, depending on how many children Harukawa-san took care of… And childcare is also pretty rough on the body, but… huh. Interesting._

He mentally filed that information for another time. Harukawa did look rather toned, even if she wasn’t particularly bulky, but Saihara decided not to think about it too hard at the moment. What was more concerning was the fact that Harukawa was shutting herself off from everyone else.

Certainly, everyone deserved privacy, but… In times like this, when everyone was a trapped amnesiac being expected to murder each other… There had to be transparency somewhere.

Maybe all that happiness and cooperation and togetherness after Amami and Akamatsu’s deaths was a facade. An act…

Saihara frowned. _Along with the truth… Trust also died that night._

He sighed. “It’s evening… so I’ll be going to the cafeteria, Momota-kun.”

“Sure,” Momota replied. “You seen Yumeno’s lab?” 

Saihara nodded. “She seemed pretty mad about it being more magician-like than witch-like, though, so I didn’t stay extremely long… Just enough to look at all her magic tools, and for her to tell me…” he sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Precisely how much mana each one would use...”

“Sucks, man,” Momota gave him a shoulder pat in sympathy. “Gonta’s lab was hell, too. I saw green earth and insects on the wall ‘n immediately noped myself outta there...”

“I haven’t been there yet…” Saihara mused. _But I’m not much of a bug fan either, so I’ll check it out tomorrow or something._

“Well, I’m gonna try and see if I can get Harukawa to show me her lab,” Momota smiled. “It’ll totally work! Persistence is key!”

Saihara raised a brow. _That sort of thing never worked well with any of Uncle Shuuhei’s clients. _“She might file a restraining order against you.”

Momota snorted. “With what government? All we have here are bears that murder people and make shitty sex jokes.”

_A bear-ocracy… _Saihara shook his head, inwardly cringing at his own joke as he began walking away. “A-Anyway, I’ll be going.”

“Sure!” Momota grinned. “Seeya soon.” He turned around, knocking repeatedly on Harukawa’s door. “Heyyyy, Harukawaaaaa...”

=

The treasure chest in front of Angie was suspicious.

She had been on her way to the cafeteria when God told her to stop and carefully go look in a corner. When she did, she found the treasure chest.

_Hmmm, hmm, what to do…. God doesn’t play tricks, but if it’s something dangerous inside, then Angie’s in trouble..._

Luckily for her, Saihara was walking in the same direction.

“Shuichiiii!” she called out with a grin, waving wildly at him to get his attention. “Come here, come here! God helped Angie find something interesting~”

Saihara, apparently unable to ignore a person in need, walked over to her. “What is it, Angie-san?” he asked.

“Treasure chest!” she pointed proudly.

Saihara stared at it, then back at her. “Okay?”

“Open it,” Angie smiled. “Please?”

For a split second, Saihara looked annoyed, as if knowing full well why Angie wouldn’t open it herself and like he’d rather not do it, but he still opened it anyway.

“A… flashlight…?” Saihara asked, gingerly picking it up.

It was a strange contraption, made of wild looking junk. If Angie submitted it to an art show in Europe, they may have even called her the next Duchamp. 

“Hm… we should show everyone,” Angie said. “God says that sharing knowledge is the best thing to do.”

Saihara looked dubious. “I suppose…” he shook his head. “We can call everyone to the gym to look at it, then all go to the cafeteria after that.”

“Sounds good~” Angie nodded in agreement.

As they walked, Angie pondered.

...Saihara was trustworthy. God was sure of it, and Angie was sure of it too. And since he was a detective… maybe he’d be able to understand her thoughts.

“Hm… Shuichi, can Angie tell you something?” Angie said quietly.

Saihara looked startled. “Um-- yes?”

“Don’t you think it’s strange,” Angie said carefully, “how quickly everyone’s seemed to forget the past two deaths?”

Saihara froze, silent. “...”

“At least…” Angie shifted, still grinning, though it felt a lot more forced. “Nobody is talking about it anymore. We’re all avoiding it… Ignoring it and trying to forget it, instead of accepting it and moving on. In my religion, it’s a disgrace to the dead.”

“I…” Saihara’s voice cracked. “I’m not sure what you mean, Angie-san.”

“Angie thinks it’s strange…” she paused, trying to find the right words. “We all loved Kaede, and since we had to watch her death, it hurt us a lot. But to me… To me, it feels like we’re so sad about_ her_ that we’ve forgotten about Rantaro.”

At this, Saihara seemed to be more alert and curious. He furrowed his brows. “Amami-kun?”

Angie nodded. “Angie didn’t really talk to him at the academy, but… Rantaro looked like he knew a lot more than he let on. My connection to God makes me feel that.”

There was a palpable silence.

Saihara winced and touched his head; Angie heard the voice of God again.

_ **“trapped” - “don’t leave” - “following you” - “getting answers”** _

God sure was cruel, only giving Angie snippets of her memories like that. But God did everything for a reason. Angie would have to be patient.

“Anyways!” Angie clapped cheerfully. “To the gym we go!” And then she ran. Saihara yelped, startled, then ran after her.

_...As long as someone’s able to piece things together, it should be okay._

=

Everyone eventually gathered in the gym to see what strange thing Angie and Saihara had found. Unfortunately, Monokuma had apparently invited himself there as well. 

“Ooh, congratulations, you two!” he beamed at Saihara and Angie, picking up the device from Saihara’s hands. “You found what we like to call a ‘flashback light’.”

Ouma picked at his nails. _I actually found it last night, but whatever._

“S-So…” Shirogane trembled.

Toujo seemed to understand the question she wanted to ask. “How does it work?”

“Simple! Easy-peasy!” Monokuma held the flashback light in his hands. One person flicks this switch, and points the bulb at themselves. A light will flash, and you’ll get a bigger snippet of your missing memories back!”

Everyone froze.

=

“Our… memories…?” Chabashira said.

Saihara was stunned as well. Obviously if it was in a treasure chest it would be important, but he hadn’t thought it would be that essential to their escape.

_...It’s like Monokuma’s dangling a cruel thread above us, taunting us with our pasts._

“I’ll use this one on all of you,” Monokuma offered. “Since it’s your first. But be warned! These things only work one time, so if one person uses it alone, the rest of you don’t get that memory back.”

“Awwww, who cares about that!” Ouma pouted. “Hurry up, hurry uppp!”

“Stand stiiiiill!” Monokuma cooed, pointing the flashback light at them. “And say cheese!”

Gonta actually tried to say cheese; the others let out varying shrieks and yelps at the bright lights.

Burning. Saihara felt like he was burning up inside, like something was ripping him apart inside out. Like the burn of alcohol, but stronger and across his entire body--

_The Ultimate Hunt._

Saihara let out a yell, clutching his head.

_Running. So much running. Screaming, violence, blood, pandemonium--_

And then the memory headaches kicked in. Saihara screamed, falling to the floor in excruciating pain--

_ **they’re calling it the ‘Ultimate Hunt’** _

** _kill us_ **

** _we have to hide_ **

** _before they reach--_ **

He choked out in pain, struggling to get back up even to his knees. Through his squinted eyes he could see everyone else in varying states of distress.

_What the hell is going on? _

=

After a few moments, the high from the flashback light and the burning feeling that came with it left, though some residual effects of the memory headaches lingered.

Ouma personally felt like he’d been slapped across the face. 

His heart beat faster. _Ultimate Hunt. Running. Screaming. Violence, chaos. What the fuck was that?_

“If we--” Toujo covered her nose. “If we’re getting such severe headaches and side effects from these, then-- these must be our real memories. These can’t be fake or manufactured--!”

_Doubtful, _Ouma thought, coughing again into his scarf. _The things that cause our headaches could be manufactured, too… We’re all at the mastermind’s mercy. _The smell of antiseptic was absolutely unbearable. 

(Pun unintended, dammit.)

But he didn’t say anything. If this gave the others a false sense of security, or a motive to escape related to their memories, then he couldn’t do much without looking like a spoilsport. Not that it was a problem for Ouma-- the memories this flashback light gave them wouldn’t be much of a motive anyway, if all they were remembering was violence outside.

He decided to observe the others.

_Saihara is covering his forehead and parts of his eyes, so his headaches must give him visual clues of some sort, if not auditory. Same with Iruma, Shirogane, Gonta, Harukawa, Shinguji, and Yumeno, though Saihara’s pain in particular seems strongest._

_Akamatsu used to cover her ears, so hers must’ve been auditory or music-related. Kiibo also has that “inner voice” thing he talks about, so it’s the same with him. Hoshi and Chabashira also look like they keep hearing something._

_Rantaro had all his memories intact, so he didn’t have a tic. I always smell antiseptic, and sometimes old book pages… Toujo also covers her nose, so she must smell something too._

_Momota looks lightheaded, like he’s getting motion-sick. And finally, Angie… is clutching her head, but other than that she’s just staring, so it’s not clear if she’s hearing or seeing something. Suspicious. _

This wasn’t helping. Everyone got some sort of headache; nobody was clearly the mastermind one way or another--

Ouma felt strangely trapped.

_Don’t forget, though,_ he remembered, and suddenly he felt a bit more reassured. _Harukawa’s lab…_

Right, right, Harukawa. Forget headaches; in terms of everything else, obviously she was the most suspicious. Ouma had picked the lock and seen her lab on day one.

All the weapons and weapon-holders. All the spy technology. The literal hitlist and practice shooting range. He’d seen it all. And he’d heard of how she locked herself in her lab all day and refused to let anyone see it.

_‘Ultimate Child Caregiver’, my ass._

“U-Um, I think,” Shirogane coughed, appearing finally relieved of her headache, “w-we should go somewhere else… and think about this.”

_She sounds shaken up... though she’s always shaking like a leaf. Whatever she saw… She’s probably not the mastermind, or even anyone suspicious. She’s just scared._

“I shall prepare dinner, then,” Toujo said, though even she sounded troubled. “If everyone would like to go to the cafeteria…”

“I already ate…” Shinguji said quietly. He stumbled a bit as he walked. “So I… shall retire to my dorm room…”

Monokuma waved at them as they all left, awkwardly and silently shuffling to the cafeteria.

The meal was silent. Pin-drop silent. Nobody spoke, and everyone’s eyes shifted around them, cautious and wary. The noise of even a spoon clattering was met with everyone whipping their heads to the source, spooked.

_Distrust prevails, _Ouma thought, quietly giving Toujo his dish when he finished and nodding slightly in lieu of a verbal thanks. He walked out the door and back to his dorm room.

_We’re all screwed._

_=_


	12. 2-2. Seeds of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some friendships are mutual.
> 
> Some are more unequally one-sided. 
> 
> And others, you might realize, aren't actually friendships at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's both relatively long AND a lot less angsty than usual! i'm kinda proud!
> 
> as promised to everyone in the discord server, there are indeed doorbells in this chapter. look forward to that :3c
> 
> and as promised to eden specifically, yes, there is a lot of vaguely gay tension/deeply caring friendship between kaito and saihara. Worry not, saiouma shippers-- saiouma is the endgame ship, and i have zero intention of changing that. But. for both eden and myself as a multishipper/fellow enthusiast of the second-biggest* danganronpa bromance of all time. i Had To Write Some Of It Here
> 
> *i said biggest at first but then i remembered mondo and ishimaru abgsdhfkldksj
> 
> bonus game! guess which friendships fall into which category from the summary! if you wanna!

A pleasant morning alarm played, followed immediately by _“Rise and shine, ursine!”_

“AAH--” Saihara woke up with a start, scrambling in a panic. When he realized what was going on, he sighed, then groaned, grumpily kicking his blanket off to roll out of bed. The monitor in his dorm room continued playing the Monokubs’ message as he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“We gave all of you a present <3,” Monophanie winked. “Give it a look! It’s a fun little video that we think you might be interested in.”

“How did you say <3 out loud,” Monotaro asked, upset. “I’m the leader, I should have that function too!”

“Y-O-U J-U-S-T D-I-D, Y-O-U F-U-C-K-I-N-G I-D-I-O-T,” Monodam beeped.

Monosuke gasped. “Which one of you fuckers taught Monodam to swear?!”

Monokid cackled. “Being bullied by the loser of the family! That’s what ya get!”

“ANYWAY,” Monophanie spoke over the cacophony. “It took us a lot of effort to deliver!”

“W-E K-E-P-T F-I-G-H-T-I-N-G,” Monodam beeped in agreement. 

“Right!” Monophanie acknowledged. “So if you don’t look at it, I’ll sit on your chest and cry on your face for five hours! You’ll get soaked in five gallons of tears!”

“Whaaaat? Robots like us don’t have crying functions, Monophanie,” Monosuke tilted his head. 

Monotaro blinked. “Hey, how much is a gallon in Japanese?”

Monophanie grinned. “I dunno. Ask Grandpa.”

The monitor shut off.

Saihara spit out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, more awake and alert but still pissed off. Sure, it was only nine in the morning, and pretty much everyone else was probably already awake, but he really wished he didn’t have to be woken up by such grating noises. He went to change out of his night clothes.

He paused to look at himself in the mirror, midway through putting on a fresh shirt. His hair was messy, and his eyes were the slightest bit baggy, but he’d been through worse. Only three days ago, he’d been at his lowest.

His chest… was relatively flat to begin with, so he’d never felt the need to bind, but it still gave him a weird feeling inside to look at. 

_It’s strange,_ Saihara thought, buttoning the shirt and putting on his gakuran over it. _I used to get a lot more dysphoric thoughts in middle school, right before this killing game, but for some reason, ever since I’ve woken up, I don’t feel them nearly as often anymore..._

He ran a comb through his hair for a few strokes before giving up. _Good enough._ _Now, whatever those bears did, I might as well look at it..._

The gift in question was placed on his bedside table. It looked a lot like a handheld videogame console-- Saihara’s head hurt with an aching sense of familiarity looking at it.

His body moved on autopilot. Immediately, his fingers went to the bottom of the device, pressing and holding the small power button to start it up. As it buffered, Saihara blinked with a start. _Wait, how did I know to do that?_

At last, a video played.

“Welcome to Momota Kaito’s Motive Video!” Monokuma’s voice narrated. “Who or what in the world do you care about most…? Maybe you remember this, and maybe you don’t! But here’s what’s going on in the outside world as we speak...”

Saihara froze. _Momota-kun’s…? Why am I seeing Momota-kun’s motive? Shouldn’t I be seeing my own? Or is this part of Monokuma’s plan--_

The scene was in a traditional Japanese home, in a small room with tatami mats. It looked like a rather old house-- there wasn’t a lot of decoration, and the scenery outside the one window in the room looked like the countryside, full of fields on all ends. Near the window was a small table with a rotary phone on it.

Two elderly people were huddled by the phone, seemingly unaware of the camera watching them.

_“WHERE IS MY GRANDSON?!”_ the elderly man yelled into the phone. “WHAT’VE YOU FOLK DONE T--” he began hacking and coughing, and an elderly woman-- presumably his wife-- held onto him, tears in her eyes.

“Dear, please--” she bit her lip. “Please…”

“I DON’T CARE!” the old man yelled, though from the way he gripped her hand on his shoulder, it was clear that he wasn’t angry at _her._ “I DON’T CARE ‘F I’M SICK!” He went back to yelling into the phone receiver, voice raw and upset. _“GIVE US OUR KAITO BACK!”_

The old woman-- Momota’s grandmother-- wiped at her eyes, then gently took the phone from him. “Whoever is listening… Please, have mercy. Kaito’s the only grandson we have… He’s only had us, e’er since his parents died... He’s worked so hard ta get ta where he is…” Her eyes watered again. “He studied hard ‘n followed ‘is dreams, e’en though we’ve only bin able ta give ‘im a country upbringing… We ain’t never had much… Even our _doorbell_ don’t work most weeks... And now, this…”

She dissolved into tears, bony hands shaking, gripping onto the phone like it was a lifeline as she spoke. “Give ‘im back. Bring ‘im home… Get ‘im out of this mess and _bring Kaito home, _we’ll do _anything--”_

The scene immediately cut out, returning to the title screen.

“Oof,” Monokuma’s narration returned, though he sounded more sadistic than sympathetic. “What a shame, Momota! Your grandparents might end up doing something drastic if you don’t get out of here soon… They’re _so old_, after all… Upupu.”

Monokuma’s grin took over the screen. “You never know if something bad might happen while you’re not there to help them.”

And then the screen turned black.

Saihara trembled, nearly dropping the console. _What the hell? What is this?!_

_Momota-kun’s upbringing, and his grandparents… _the way he spoke did indicate casualness, but he hid whatever country accent he may have had pretty well. Saihara didn’t have a clue until he saw the video.

Saihara bit his lip, feeling a faint headache just thinking about what he’d seen. His head did hurt briefly while he was watching the video, too… But he wasn’t quite sure why, since this was Momota’s video.

Finally, he put the console back on his bedside table. _It’s cruel… they’re so scared and worried for him, it almost makes me want to cry._

Another question immediately popped up in his head: _Should I tell him?_

Momota was a good friend to him so far. He’d comforted Saihara after the first trial, helping him even when he was such a mess. But this… this sort of news would only make Momota feel worse. It was basically blackmail. Torture.

_...I’ll wait._

=

Ouma was already in the cafeteria with the others when Saihara arrived, still looking somewhat sleepy.

_He’s cute, but jeez, he sleeps in way too late…_

Even with the addition of the detective, everyone still looked a bit tense-- perhaps even more tense than they were the night before, if that was even possible. Nobody had really talked the entire morning.

“Good morning, everyone!” Monokuma popped into the room with glee. “Did you all have fun watching the motive videos?”

“Um… Gonta couldn’t get the thingamajig to work,” Gonta confessed. “Gonta’s bad with technology, so…”

Monokuma bristled. “Well, I suppose I can fix that…”

Gonta blinked, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “Ah, Gonta doesn’t have it with him now.”

Monokuma stared. “Oh.”

More silence. Then, Shinguji sighed. “It appears that nobody else will ask, so I shall…” he narrowed his eyes. “Whatever was the point in giving us other people’s ‘motive videos’, Monokuma?”

At this, Monokuma looked genuinely surprised. “Pardon?”

“We didn’t get our own motive videos,” Shinguji rephrased slowly. “Or rather, I did not get my own.”

Hoshi shifted. “I didn’t get my own video, either.”

Harukawa bristled. “Neither did I.”

“I didn’t, either,” Saihara admitted quietly.

_Hmm, and I had Gonta’s. The thing about living in the woods with wolves was interesting, but the second it started talking about bugs, I had to turn that shit off, _Ouma thought. He shivered just remembering it. _Creepy..._

The others clamored, most of them admitting that they didn’t see their own videos. Monokuma looked more and more red with anger with every passing second. 

“Gee,” Monokuma held up a clawed paw, incensed. “I wonder who could be responsible for this grave error…”

The Monokubs-- _yikes, when did they even arrive? That stupid little song of theirs hadn’t even played_\-- trembled in the corner.

“W-We’re sorry, Daddy…” Monotaro looked at the floor guiltily. “Honest mistake…”

“For _all fourteen_ videos?” Monokuma bared his teeth.

“Eeeek! It was dark in everyone’s dorm rooms! We didn’t wanna wake ‘em up!” Monophanie quivered. “A-And all the consoles felt the same in the bag!”

Monokuma sighed. “Well, whatever. As long as they know their own video exists, this can still be fun.” He grinned. “Do whatever you want with those videos. They’re motives for the next murder. It isn’t in my paws anymore.”

And then he left.

It was Hoshi who finally spoke up. “...We should exchange them.”

_He has the right idea, _Ouma thought, pleased and even a bit surprised that someone else around here had common sense._ If this is a motive for murder, then we should all get together and watch each other’s videos. No secrets between us means no more motive._

The others looked at each other uncomfortably. “Uh…” Iruma grimaced. “Yeah, sorry, but no thanks. I don’t want people seeing… all the shit that happened to me, or that was important to me.”

_Noooo, Iruma, shut the fuck up! You don’t get it at all--_

“It could lead another murder to happen, Ryouma,” Angie said warningly, eyes darkening. “God and Angie both don’t want that.”

“Angie-san is right,” Kiibo sighed. “I…. don’t remember anything much about my past, but preventing any more killings should be our biggest goal aside from escape.”

“Indeed,” Toujo said, clearing out all the plates. “I highly doubt anything beneficial would occur from sharing motives for murder…”

_This **is **the way to prevent more killings! All of you idiots need to get that through your stupid thick skulls--_

“Gonta agrees,” Gonta bit his lip. “If his friends say so, he’ll stick with them.”

Ouma let out some air through his nostrils, a bit peeved. Hoshi looked equally annoyed. _He probably just wants to know what’s out there waiting for him… but even if he’s self-motivated, he has the right idea. What sucks is that everyone else is against it..._

The others had more or less agreed not to swap videos, even just to see their own. “If we can’t see our own,” Momota exuded confidence, “then we can’t have a reason to kill.”

Ouma clicked his tongue quietly. _You’re all dumb as shit. I have to do everything around here..._

“It’s agreed, then,” Saihara said. The others nodded.

Ouma nodded with them. _No need to antagonize their idea juuuust yet. I’ll pretend to go along with it for now…_

As everyone dispersed, Ouma went back to his dorm room. _...But behind the scenes, I’ll think of a plan to make what I want happen._

=

That night, Shirogane was bored.

Not a lot happened the rest of the day. Sure, some people would get up and do stuff after nighttime, but it wasn’t a lot. She’d be able to parse through the video feeds and find maybe one interesting thing to show viewers, tops. One day of nothing was fine, but any more than two or three days and viewers would start to complain.

More than the viewers, Shirogane couldn’t stop thinking of the motive videos. _Those stupid fucking Kubs messed up, so now I don’t know who has my video,_ Shirogane stabbed her sewing needle into the shirt she was working on with a bit more vigor than necessary._ I don’t even remember what I put on it, but if it alludes to anything Danganronpa-related, I’m screwed… I can only pray that Gonta had mine, since he was the only one who didn’t even know how to turn on the console..._

She paused, thinking about the Kubs Pad she’d left in her dorm room and ignoring the headache she had.

“Kiibo, huh…”

Part of her wanted to take the console she’d gotten with her to the bookshelf room for further inspection, but she decided against it-- Ouma was clearly scheming something. The Nanokubs on the first two floors, the outdoors, the dorm area, and the basement area had all been set up, and they’d shown Ouma picking locks and entering everyone’s dorm rooms and coming out after a few minutes apiece. If he noticed that her room was the only one without a Kubs Pad in it, he’d get suspicious of where else she could’ve kept it.

In other words, Ouma Kokichi was a pain in the ass.

Shirogane sighed, irritated. _I hate how I have to be overly cautious…_

Back on track: she didn’t quite understand why Kiibo’s video was the only one that was different. She’d turned on the Kubs Pad, expecting to see her own name and some arbitrary story, but instead saw Kiibo’s.

_“The professor is worried about you,” _Monokuma had said. And then the screen turned to black. _“Do you remember yet?”_

It was hardly a minute long, including the little intro screen, and yet, it filled Shirogane with suspicion. _Someone must’ve altered his video. There shouldn’t be things in there that even I don’t understand… A higher-up?_

_ Ehehe... Perhaps. Or maybe not. What do you think the truth is, and why? _

Shirogane’s breath hitched; she fumbled with the needle. The hellish scent of mint and perfume returned...

_ Oh, honey, it’s only me. Don’t be scared. _

Freezing cold arms wrapped around her again. 

_ There’s no need to be frightened... I’m a part of you now. You understand, right? _

Shirogane nodded, numb.

_ Don’t think. Don’t analyze. That’s my job, since I’m the one observing this experiment from afar… You’re just another participant. A side character. You can influence a few things, but for the most part, there’s nothing major you can do. _

_This killing game was inevitable. Life sucks like that, okay?_

_Experience the pain. Watch everyone die._

_It’s all for the sake of--_

“My show,” Shirogane whispered.

That’s right. This was for Danganronpa. Not for anyone or anything else.

And even if part of her may have felt guilty… it was okay. She didn’t do anything _really_ wrong. It was all fake anyway. Just TV.

This wasn’t real.

Shirogane picked up the needle again and continued where she left off, humming quietly as she threaded away.

=

_What was that voice? _

Ouma was positively spooked. He’d been wandering around outside when all of a sudden, the air around him turned gross and oppressive, smelling like mint and some ridiculously familiar scent of perfume. 

But the smell wasn’t the weirdest part-- it was the fact that the voice was talking to someone other than him. Maybe even talking to the mastermind of the killing game, if that voice itself wasn’t the person in question. 

And Ouma could _hear every word it said. _

_They’re a manipulative bastard, that’s for sure. _He narrowed his eyes. _Whatever is going on here… I have to act before it affects anyone else._

=

Saihara was just about to take a bath when his doorbell rang.

_Ding-dong._

He set his nightclothes down and calmly walked towards the door.

_Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong--_

“I’m coming, I’m coming! I heard you the first time!” Saihara called out. He opened the door and was met with the sight of Momota, who looked almost disappointed that Saihara opened the door so quickly.

“Eight times?” Saihara said flatly, raising a brow. _You’ll end up breaking the thing if you keep pushing it that much._

“The sound they make here is really cool,” Momota blurted, and Saihara wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to stare at him.

It was then that he faintly recalled something Momota’s grandmother said in his motive video: _“Even our doorbell don’t work most weeks…”_

Slowly and sheepishly, Momota removed his finger from the doorbell, and Saihara pressed his lips into a thin line, understanding.

“So,” Saihara said at last, deciding to change the subject. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, right!” Momota blinked, as if suddenly remembering why he’d even come. He grinned. “Come exercise with me!”

_Exercise? For fun? Willingly? _Saihara thought of all the times in gym class he’d tripped over thin air and decided that Momota must have hit himself in the head. Why else would anyone ask a scrawny, quiet guy like himself to do exercise with them?

Saihara finally settled with a different response. “This late?” He wondered if it sounded like he was whining. “It’s pretty dark outside, though…” 

“Aww, it’s okay, it’ll be fun!” Momota insisted. “Plus, exercise has lots of health benefits. Being a hermit crab won’t do ya any good here.”

_Funnily enough, you’re not the first person who’s called me a hermit crab before. _Saihara’s aunt Sonomi used to chide him for spending all day every day reading books instead of going out with friends. _‘At least one hour per week, Shuichi! It’s unhealthy otherwise! Sitting indoors all day with no sunlight will turn you into a vampire!’_

Saihara put a hand over his mouth, pensive. “...We’ll get caught.” It honestly sounded like he was coming up with excuses, but it was true-- it was past nighttime now, and most of the others had gone to their dorm rooms.

“Maaan, you’re such a stickler for the rules…” Momota rolled his eyes. “Who_ cares_ if you’ll get caught? Live a little!” he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he grinned, eyes suddenly shining with mischief.

_Huh? Wait, what’s he planning to--_

Momota grabbed Saihara by the wrist and yanked him outside, laughing when Saihara let out a shriek at the sudden movement. “M-Momota-kun--!”

“Shhh, don’t yell! Weren’t you the one who said we’d get caught?” Momota cracked up as he ran, dragging Saihara behind him.

_You’re the one who’s laughing loudly right now!_

“Couldn’t this wait until morning?!” Saihara whisper-yelled, heart racing from thrill, but even though he was exasperated, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Nope!” Momota shook his head, pushing open the doors to the courtyard. He led them to a grassy patch not too near nor far from the main building. “Here’s a good spot!” Momota let go of Saihara’s wrist and plopped down.

Saihara put his hands on his knees, panting and catching his breath. “A... A good spot for what?” 

“Exercise, duh.” Momota rolled over, sitting up. “We’ll start easy, but you might wanna take off the gakuran either way. Those sorta clothes are too stuffy.”

Saihara glanced at him dubiously. “Okay…” quickly, he unbuttoned his gakuran and took it off, revealing only the white collared shirt he always wore underneath.

“Huh,” Momota commented, looking him up and down. “Western clothes actually suit you pretty well.”

Saihara flushed. “T-Thanks…” He prayed that it was dark enough that Momota wouldn’t be able to see how red he was as he haphazardly folded the gakuran shirt and put it aside.

“Now!” Momota flipped over, getting into a pushup stance. “Exercise time.”

Saihara kneeled on the grass and mimicked the position, relieved that it’d be something simple. _Maybe like, five or ten of these..._

“A hundred pushups tonight!” Momota declared.

Saihara let out a strangled noise, immediately scrambling to get up. “No way. Nope. I’m going back to my room--”

“Noooooooooo,” Momota drawled, keeping himself balanced up with one arm while grabbing Saihara’s leg with the other. “Saihara. Bro. Bruh. _Do the pushups.”_

Saihara grimaced.

“Get back down on the grass,” Momota said.

Saihara got back down on the grass.

“Good!” Momota beamed. “And now, we start!”

=

Saihara was gasping by his third pushup. 

“What the f---” Saihara choked on air._ “--uuuck,”_ he wheezed. “How do you--” he grunted, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. “--do this--”

Momota didn’t think anyone could actually be shit at that kind of exercise, but hey! You learned something new every day.

“Keep going!” Momota insisted.

“No more,” Saihara wheezed. His twig-like arms (Hey! Chabashira was right after all!) trembled like the legs of a newborn fawn under the weight of his body. “My body--” he panted, “--can’t-- keep up…!”

“One hundred! No matter what!” Momota pushed through. He himself was somewhere around the seventies already-- pushups didn’t take him long to do since he had all that experience with physical fitness stuff during his period of astronaut training.

And a hundred for himself! That was that. He gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back. _Good job, Luminary of the Stars. _

He turned over to look at Saihara, only to see him face-down in the grass.

A brief moment of panic passed wherein Momota thought for sure he’d hear that bell tone, with Monokuma popping out to say _‘A body has been discovered!_’. However, much to his relief, Saihara was breathing. Very heavily.

“Dirt is my only friend,” Saihara said monotonously, voice muffled by the grass. Momota guffawed, giving him a friendly slap on the back (and pointedly ignoring the ‘oof’ noise that came in return).

“Don’t be so emo, man,” he grinned.

Saihara slowly got up, sitting cross-legged and brushing off the bits of grass that stuck to his shirt. Momota helped brush a bit off of Saihara’s shoulder. He noted the flush of Saihara’s face, the rosiness of his cheeks, the way his hair stuck to the back of his neck from sweat, the heat of his skin to the touch, the heaviness of his breathing from health instead of from hurt. 

It was a good look on him.

(Much better than that pallid, weak complexion, with exaggerated eyebags and a croaky, thin voice from sobbing his eyes out.)

“Now,” Momota began. “Pop quiz. Why did I bring you out here?”

“Because you’re a sadist,” Saihara wheezed.

“Bzzt,” Momota frowned. “C’mon, man, I ain’t Iruma.” _Still, it’s pretty funny how sarcastic and vocal he can get. Is this what he usually thinks in that head of his when he’s not talking out loud?_

“She’s actually a masochist, I think,” Saihara sniffed; Momota choked on laughter. Saihara paused, pondering a genuine answer. “Because… you wanted to?”

Momota shook his head with a smile. “Because I think Akamatsu deserves to have strong people carry out her will.”

Saihara froze. “What does Kaede have to do with--”

Momota held up both hands in a surrendering gesture. “I’m not gonna mince words, dude. You’re weak. And considering all the shit you’ve seen, I get it. But it doesn’t mean you gotta stay that way.”

“...I’m still scared of revealing the truth,” Saihara admitted, brows furrowing as he looked to the side. “I know what Kaede wanted me to do, but… I can’t help it.”

Momota nodded, channeling as much of Akamatsu and her perfect, leader-like words as he could. “I know that. But y’know what? You _can_ become better. With effort and practice, you can overcome your weakness just like I have. You’ve already put in this much effort on day one!” he pumped a fist.

“Less than ten out of a hundred is sort of abysmal,” Saihara said flatly.

“Still,” Momota protested. “It’s something.”

“It’s something terrible.”

“It’s _something.”_ Momota snorted. _Sheesh, what a Negative Nancy._ “Don’t diminish your progress, okay?” He gave Saihara a pat on the back. “Shit’s rough, but you’re toughing it out well. A hundred pushups was the ideal, but I guess even five’s a decent start since you went out here unprepared.” 

“Actually, I did six and a half,” Saihara attempted.

Momota snickered. “Dream on, sidekick.”

Saihara raised a brow, still smiling despite how tired he’d been while exercising. “‘Sidekick’, huh?”

Momota nodded sagely. “Yes, sidekick. I’m the Luminary of the Stars! I dream big, and I achieve big. You, on the other hand, are still working on it. Since you’re gonna be my permanent exercise partner, you’ve gotta settle for being my sidekick.”

Saihara’s eyes bulged in shock. “Wait, hold on-- I never--_ permanent?!”_

Momota laughed, getting up and lightly jogging back to the dorms. He waved. “We’ll continue with one hundred more pushups tomorrow night, _Shuichi!_ Shower up and go get some shut-eye!”

“Momota-kun!” Saihara yelled from the grass-- red-faced and incredulous at the use of his given name, and aghast at the idea of having to exercise daily. “We are _not _doing this again! I can’t-- _stop laughing, Momota-kun!”_

=

“I hate this stupid lab! All this street magician crap everywhere I look! _I! Am! A! Witch!”_

Chabashira smiled to herself as Yumeno stomped around her Ultimate Magician lab, cursing out all the tricks and devices in it. She’d been at it all throughout the morning, ever since they got back from breakfast at the cafeteria.

“You are what you think you are,” Chabashira amended. _Better than saying outright that believing in witchcraft is delusional. _“But Yumeno-san, have you considered that maybe the reason there’s nothing witch-related here is because you’re the only one who has it?”

Yumeno stopped her stomping and blinked at Chabashira. “Nyeh?”

“Like, that sorta, y’know--” Chabashira waved her hands around in vaguely punch-like motions. “Like _pow!_ Y’know? Err, that thing--” _Ughhhh, these childish allusions aren’t helping! _She flapped her hands, struggling with the words for a few seconds until they finally came into her head. “The people who forced us here don’t have mana, so they couldn’t possibly bring magical items to your lab! You’re the only one here with magic!”

Yumeno’s face lit up. “Of course! That has to be it!” 

Chabashira let out a quiet sigh. _She’s cute, but high-maintenance… Like a puppy…_

“Then I shall bring magical items to my lab with my own magical power!” Yumeno declared. She walked towards the small chair opposite the one Chabashira was sitting on and threw herself onto it. “After a nap, because my mana levels are low.”

She lay there. Chabashira got up and crouched down before Yumeno, then poked her. “Yumeno-saaaaan,” she whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No,” came the muffled response. Yumeno turned over and sat up, hair messed up and witch’s hat crooked.

“I actually wanted to discuss something with you,” Chabashira asked sheepishly. “Before you slept.”

“Nyeh…. what is it?”

Chabashira shifted uncomfortably. “The… the motive videos from earlier.”

Yumeno plopped back down. “Eh.”

“It’s a serious matter, Yumeno-san!” Chabashira protested, straightening Yumeno’s hat and patting her hair. She sighed. “I got Angie-san’s video, and I can’t stop thinking about it…”

“Nyeh… I got Shinguji’s,” Yumeno admitted, moving her hand to show Chabashira precisely where to pet her hair. “Not much happened in it? It was kinda sketchy, actually...”

“I didn’t really get what went on in Angie-san’s, either, but…” Chabashira winced. “I got a headache looking at it.”

Yumeno blinked. “I didn’t get one looking at Shinguji’s.”

At this Chabashira paused, surprised. “Really?”

Yumeno shook her head. “Nope. I figured it was because it wasn’t my own video.”

“But if I got one looking at Angie-san’s, then what does that mean?” Chabashira thought aloud. “Why would…”

“Means you think too much,” Yumeno pinched Chabashira’s hand, apparently tired of being pet. 

Chabashira yelped. Then, she giggled. “I suppose you’re right. We shouldn’t be talking about other people’s motives, anyway…”

Yumeno nodded. “Discussing other people’s pasts and secrets… can only mean trouble.” She sighed. “Nn… But everyone’s super stressed over the motive videos…”

Just then, Angie and Shirogane walked in. “Ooooh, Tenko and Himiko!” Angie grinned. 

“H-Hello,” Shirogane bowed slightly. “We heard you two were over here… what’s going on?”

Chabashira straightened up-- physically, of course. She refused to be straight in any other way. _Can’t let Angie know I was just talking about her motive video…_ “Yumeno-san and I were talking about how stressed everyone seems lately…”

Angie hummed. “Hmmm. God is telling me there’s a way we can fix that!” 

“Oh?” Yumeno brightened up a bit, seeming to forget her earlier sleepiness; Chabashira pushed down the twist of envy in her gut. “What is it, Angie?”

“Weeeeell,” Angie clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels. “People like entertainment! It distracts them from the stuff actually bothering them.”

Shirogane’s glasses gleamed. “Fiction can be a great way to escape from reality’s problems.”

“Entertainment, huh…” Chabashira pondered. She looked at Yumeno and had an epiphany. “I’ve got it!”

“Hm?” the other three girls all turned to look at her, curious.

“A magic show!” Chabashira exclaimed. “Yumeno-san can do magic for everyone!”

“You better not be insulating that my magic is fictional,” Yumeno glowered, looking somewhat peeved. 

Chabashira nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I mean, no! Of course not! It’ll be a real magic show, with your real magic, Yumeno-san!”

Shirogane fidgeted with the ends of her skirt. “U-Um, I think you meant _‘insinuating’, _not ‘insulating’--”

Angie twirled a paintbrush in her fingers. “Nyahahaha! Perfect!”

“Quiet!” Yumeno burst out. The other girls stopped talking. Yumeno sighed, then smiled. “A magic show is good, but we’ll need to prepare. Any ideas?”

“Hmm,” Angie tapped her chin with the paintbrush she was holding. “Angie knows Kokichi and Gonta are planning something tomorrow, so… what about the day after that?” 

“Two days from now?” Shirogane reiterated. 

Chabashira nodded. “Good idea, Angie-san! We can even keep it a surprise!”

Yumeno smiled at the idea. “That way, everyone can be happy.”

“It’ll be a lot of work in a short time, though…” Shirogane mused. “Perhaps…” her glasses gleamed. “We ought to ask Toujo-san to help us…?”

“Sure! Kirumi’s good at everything, so I think it’s a good idea!” Angie grinned.

It was agreed. The girls’ enthusiasm only grew from there as they proceeded to map out their ideas and everything else for Yumeno’s magic show, giggling and sketching and planning to their hearts’ content.

(Shirogane didn’t seem quite as interested in the magic, in Chabashira’s opinion, but she was always a wallflower, so doing friendly things like this with her was a good first step to improving their relationship.)

Yumeno’s Magic Show would go great.

= 

“You told Angie about the Insect Meet and Greet ahead of time?” Ouma asked, flabbergasted.

Gonta nodded, then shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Well-- Gonta didn’t _say _it was the Insect Meet and Greet… Just that the two of us had planned something. Angie-san didn’t ask questions.”

_It’s a miracle none of these fools have gotten me killed yet,_ Ouma marvelled internally. _I want them to survive too, but when they’re this dumb, it’s absolutely ridiculous..._

“Goodness, Gonta, why didn’t you say so!” he exclaimed, exuding faux relief. “Don’t mention it to anyone else, okay? This has to be a surprise!”

“Sur...prise…?” Gonta tilted his head.

Ouma nodded, filling his eyes with deep sympathy. “You remember what I said, right? _Everyone in this academy except for you and me said that they hated bugs._ If you tell them about the Meet and Greet, they’ll never come! And after all the effort we put into planning it...” He lowered his voice to a whisper, passing on the secret behind a hand. “You either gotta keep it secret, or force them to come, or both.”

Gonta nodded, full of understanding and wonder. “Oh…! Gonta sees! That makes sense. Thank you, Ouma-kun.”

_Like stealing candy from a baby. _Of course, Ouma knew quite well that stealing anything from a baby was actually difficult, since they tended to have oddly tough grip strength for empathy-less sacks of flesh-- it was easier to snatch wallets from unassuming Tokyoites during rush hour, or rig vending machines to give out more than one packet of food. But he digressed.

His plan was simple. Scam Gonta. Kidnap the others. Shove ‘em in Gonta’s lab. Make some shit up and get an excuse to go out. Proceed to go steal everyone’s motive videos from the dorm rooms. Bring the videos back to Gonta’s lab. Make everyone watch each other’s videos. No more motives since everyone’s information is public. Profit.

Somewhere in between he’d pull a fake-out and make someone else understand his reasoning and logic behind watching the videos-- Ouma hadn’t worked out all the finer details of this plan.

_At the very least, even if everyone still doesn’t know each other’s secrets, I will, _Ouma thought. _And I’ll scan everyone’s dorm rooms ahead of the event, so I’ll already know who had whose videos._

It was a somewhat relieving thought to have. Really, he was getting more and more worried by the second. Or perhaps paranoid was a better word…

Ouma shook the idea out of his head. _No way. I’m not the paranoid type. This is normal. I’m trapped with a bunch of people I can’t trust, and there’s the threat of death. Anyone could be a killer or the mastermind. I’m the only sane one. I’m the only smart one. I’m being rational here._

_I’m not becoming like **her**…_

=

The second night, much to Saihara’s dismay, Momota arrived at his dorm room door again. 

Momota grinned. “Ready, Shuichi?”

“Can we do situps instead?” Saihara asked immediately, knowing full well that Momota would absolutely refuse to back down. 

“Nope!” Momota grinned. “By the way, it is cool to call you ‘Shuichi’, right?”

“Ah…” Saihara nodded. “I’m not used to it, but I like it, so feel free, Momota-kun.” He quickly took off his gakuran, tossing it onto his bed so that he wouldn’t have to keep it on the grass. Then he sighed, walking out and closing the door behind him. “Still, I’m better at situps… it was worth a shot…”

“Situps, huh… That reminds me, your center of gravity’s sorta different from mine,” Momota glanced at Saihara from the corner of his eyes. “Or at least, that’s the feeling I got watching you try to do pushups yesterday…”

“Mm…” Saihara looked to the side. _Do I tell him that I’m…?_

_Momota-kun is trustworthy._

_The first trial, plus waking me up, plus staying with me and talking with me and being concerned for my well-being… and even going so far as to get me out to exercise… He’s trustworthy and kind._

_Most importantly… I want to tell him._

“Yeah,” Saihara said, standing a bit more straight, somewhat more confident. “That’s because I’m transgender.”

Momota paused, hand on the door handle to the courtyard. He looked at Saihara, blinking owlishly. Then he shrugged, turning back around and opening the door. “Cool. Good to know. Be proud of who you are.”

And that was that.

Saihara smiled as he walked out into the courtyard, breaking out into a jog to catch up to Momota.

Even though doing the pushups that night sucked just as much as it had the night before, and made him wheeze and pant and sweat even worse, Saihara felt content.

_I’m glad I met him. I’m happy that I’m friends with Momota-kun._

_I’m glad everyone else seems to be having fun with each other, talking to each other, and not letting the motive videos get to them._

_...I’m glad these seeds of friendship are bearing fruit._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact. my friends all call me a hermit crab bc i literally Do Not Go Out. #introvertlife
> 
> the plot thickens while also not really doing a lot!! what on earth could all these little details mean....
> 
> see you guys next week~


	13. 2-3. Gonta's Insect Meet and Greet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people take advantage of each other.
> 
> Half of the students at the academy get insect-related PTSD.
> 
> Shirogane gets a cruel reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im running late to class again!!!!!!!!!!! gotta run!!!!! hope you enjoy this chapter, it's pretty long!!!
> 
> TW for insects (kind of unavoidable, sorry) and for hoshi's s*icidal/depressive thoughts. If you want to skip the worst of those, skip from "And if there's nobody else..." to "I'm baaaaaaack" in the next POV section. There is a minor plot detail that will be missed there, but it's inconsequential.

The scene was an office of some sort. The young man’s back was to the camera, and he appeared to be in the middle of a conversation with a group of people. None of them appeared aware of the camera’s presence. 

“--my secretary, as you all know… But she was planning to leave and study abroad. At that point, I needed a new assistant. I hired Toujo Kirumi then. She was a maid, but I’d heard from many people near the top of the social ladder that she was the best of the best, both in maid work and in other semi-related assistant-like duties.”

The young man framed his face with his hands, clearly sounding increasingly stressed the more he spoke. “She served me well. She was devoted and hardworking. But once she and the others were kidnapped, and all of _that _happened, everything around both my company and this country has been falling apart--”

The scene cut out, and Monokuma’s voice came up again. “Do you remember who that was, Toujo?” A pause. “Either way, he’s pretty important…” Monokuma snickered. “What if I told you that the person you served was the prime minister, and that in serving him you too had the prime minister’s duties? Would you believe me?”

The title screen appeared again, but Monokuma’s dialogue continued. “Truth or lie, lie or truth… Whether you choose to believe me or not, you were important to this man. I myself happen to have a grudge against him for his role in trying to prevent these killing games, minor though it was…” he trailed off, grinning.

_“You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to your precious employer while you were gone, would you, Toujo?”_

= 

Toujo couldn’t possibly let the others know that she had her own motive video.

It was strange-- why had she been the only one to get her own video? Surely the Monokubs mess-up wasn’t anything more than that, right?

It couldn’t have been deliberate.

She turned her thoughts back to what it had said, pondering how asinine it sounded. ‘_Prime Minister’? Please. I’m aware that I can satisfy any request with minor exceptions, but becoming a politician because of a powerful employer is not one of those things._

_...Right?_

It was dubious, but she chose not to believe it.

After all, the line about prime ministers hadn’t given her a memory headache-- only the footage of that young man who must’ve been her employer…

She had to escape. Whatever was going on, she had to escape and return to him, or else--

_Or else what, _she wondered. _Is failing at a job really worth your life? You’d risk death and kill someone else, just because you want to be perfect?_

Toujo bit her lip.

_...You very well know you don’t have anything else to live for, Miss Ultimate Maid, _she thought bitterly._ You know your only personality is doing work for others. No individuality. Just rote menial labor, serving and smiling and being prim and proper…_

A new idea came to her:_ Would you rather have to force yourself into the maid role while being trapped here, or force yourself while you’re free outside? Either way, you’re not truly free... _

_...But you’d be freer away from here._

The real question was how she’d get out of this cage-like academy. There were no escape paths in any of the new rooms that had been unlocked, and the one escape from the Death Road was utterly impossible, even by her standards. 

Toujo looked at the motive video console, cold dread settling in her stomach.

_I have no other choice… but to murder, don’t I?_

(Besides, unsavory though it was, she could always use the prime minister bit of her motive video as an excuse.)

_=_

“Setting up, setting up, la la la la la…”

Yumeno hummed a nonsensical tune as she bustled about in the gym, setting up for her magic show. She smiled to herself. So far, things were going good-- Angie and her God were working on painting art decorations, Shirogane was stitching together a curtain and a costume for her--

“Yumeno-san, where do I put this? Please let me know exactly what angle down to the degree!” 

And there was Chabashira, eagerly carrying the props.

“Nyeh…” Yumeno paused, grimacing. “Just put it somewhere over there,” she waved in a general direction. “We’ll figure it out later, Chabashira…”

“Please call me Tenko!” Chabashira grinned, setting down the props with a _thud._

“Some other time,” Yumeno yawned. “Now I need to tell Toujo where to bring that thing…”

Chabashira perked up. “What thing? If it needs any physical strength to move, I can always help--” 

“No!” Yumeno pouted. “My magic is secret. Toujo can see just because she’s Toujo. She’s a maid, so she’s gotta know everything. You stay here.”

“But--”

“I want you to be surprised, Chabashira,” Yumeno grinned, skipping out of the gym. “So until tomorrow morning, I’ll be keeping my magic a secret from you!” 

=

“Piranhas… And then there’s a compartment in the stairs…?” Toujo asked. Yumeno nodded. “I see.”

Even as Yumeno explained her trick and what she needed Toujo to bring to the gym, Toujo’s attention wasn’t really on the magic show. She did her work as diligently as possible, of course-- it would be a slight on her career if she didn’t put in her all-- but her mind was elsewhere.

_Escape. Escape. I need to murder someone to escape._

“Just set that behind the prop box that Chabashira put,” Yumeno instructed. “Thanks, Toujo.”

_...Perhaps Yumeno would be easy to kill?_

Yumeno blinked. “Toujo…?”

“Ah,” Toujo blinked back, then bowed politely. “Yes, of course. It is my duty.”

_...No. _The magic show would be a good cover, and she could make it look like an accident… but Yumeno was so excited. Killing someone with so much enthusiasm and zest for life, as lazy as they were… It would hurt too much.

“I shall help set up the tank and piranhas, as well,” Toujo said. Yumeno beamed at her.

_And maybe when I’m done, I’ll have a target in mind._

=

The rest of the day passed without much incidence for Saihara. It wasn’t til around sunset that evening that something happened.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

(Saihara would’ve preferred that nothing happened at all, but unfortunately for him, life had other plans.)

Gonta screamed, running around the courtyard like a madman. “COME SEE BUGS! IT’S NOT GOOD TO HATE BUUUUUUUGS!”

_What sort of marketing gimmick is this?!_ Saihara panicked. He himself had just gone out into the courtyard-- it was only a matter of time before Gonta found him and then-- 

“And then what? What even _is_ Gonta-kun doing...?” Saihara wondered aloud.

“He’s kidnapping people and taking them somewhere, if I recall right,” Hoshi breathed next to him. Saihara jumped with a shriek; Hoshi put his hand over Saihara’s mouth. “Shh. Don’t let him hear you.”

Saihara pried Hoshi’s hand off of him. “What--”

“He already got Yumeno, Shinguji, Shirogane,” Hoshi sighed. “And even the best of the best, Angie and Chabashira.”

“He’s kidnapped five people?!” Saihara furrowed his brows.

Hoshi nodded. “Him ‘n Ouma were planning something… Wack jobs, the lot of ‘em. Momota was running around warning people. He ran and hid near the casino, last I saw him. Right now Gonta seems to be pursuing Kiibo...”

Gonta turned around, seeming to sense Saihara and Hoshi. A chill ran down Saihara’s spine.

“Just kidding. Shit, he’s spotted us,” Hoshi swore. He nodded to Saihara. “Sorry, Saihara. Times like these… it’s every man for himself. Gotta blast.”

And then a blur of dark blue sped by. It took a second for Saihara to register that the blue blur was Hoshi himself-- he moved incredibly fast. Miraculously, he’d managed to evade Gonta and get back into the main building. Though Saihara was happy for Hoshi, he soon realized his own misfortune when Gonta continued walking to his direction. 

Saihara stumbled as he tried moving backwards. “G-Gonta-kun,” he stammered. “Um--”

“Gonta is sorry, Saihara-kun,” Gonta towered over him. “But he cannot forgive people who hate bugs.”

And then everything turned black.

=

_Cuuuuute. Cute cute cute. Holy shit, Saihara’s sleeping face is really cute…_

Ouma really would have to thank Gonta for accidentally knocking the detective out. He leaned in against Saihara’s sleeping frame, mere inches from his face. _Oh, wow,_ _his eyelashes are super long and pretty, too..._

“Kokichiiii,” Angie whispered. “God is asking what the hell you’re doing to Shuichi.”

“Appreciating beauty,” Ouma whispered back with a grin. He snickered. “And also waiting to scare the shit out of him when he wakes up.”

“Wanting to appreciate beauty is natural, I suppose,” Shinguji wrapped his arms around his shoulders, shivering pensively. “But you’re practically breathing on Saihara-kun’s face…”

Shirogane coughed obnoxiously._ “Gay,”_ she choked out. Ouma ignored her. 

“The magic of homosexuality, huh,” Yumeno muttered.

“This has to count as sexual harassment,” Kiibo mumbled, face pink. “Somehow.”

“Are you gonna tell us why Gonta kidnapped us, Kokichi?” Angie yawned. “Angie wants to sleep…”

“Once my beloved sleeping beauty here wakes up,” Ouma promised, not taking his eyes off Saihara. “Aaaaany minute now…”

Saihara twitched under him, brows furrowing as he let out a tiny, muffled groan. His eyes slowly fluttered open.

=

“Saaaaihara-chaaaan,” Ouma cooed, bright purple eyes shining right above him. “Good morning. Rise and shine.”

_Ouma….kun…?_

_WAIT, OUMA-KUN--_

Saihara shrieked, face reddening as he nearly bumping his head against Ouma’s; the other boy cackled. 

“Wh-- wh--” Saihara stuttered. “What--”

“Good morning!” Ouma said again, smiling bright and cheerily. “You were knocked out and fast asleep.”

“Where am I?” Saihara finally got out.

“Hell!” Ouma replied. His smile wobbled. “We’re. In hell.”

Saihara looked around. It was… green. Grassy green everywhere. He turned to a wall and saw--

He startled. _Bugs…?_

It was then that Saihara recalled what Momota had told him before: _‘I saw green earth and insects on the wall ‘n immediately noped myself outta there…’_

_Oh, _Saihara swallowed._ We’re in Gonta-kun’s lab…_

“Now will you tell us why you’ve so rudely brought us here?” Kiibo crossed his arms.

“Yeah,” Yumeno rolled her eyes. “Now that your beloved sleeping prince is awake--”

“Sure!” Ouma interrupted cheerfully, skipping over to twist Yumeno’s arm and ignoring the way she shrieked in pain.

“Hey!” Chabashira yelled at him, stomping over to help Yumeno. She looked like hellfire. “Touching a girl as sweet as Yumeno-san is absolutely off-limits for a degenerate such as yourself!”

“Anyway,” Ouma continued, completely ignoring Chabashira’s ire. “The thing is…” he put a finger over his mouth. “This is Gonta’s Insect Meet and Greet!”

“J-Just Gonta-kun’s?” Shirogane tilted her head.

Ouma hummed. “Weeeell, I helped him plan it too. The gist of it is, I told Gonta that everyone in this school hates bugs, and that made him angry, so he vowed to get you all to love bugs. I came up with the meet and greet. And voila.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Saihara noticed Kiibo pressing a button on his arm.

“You love bugs, Ouma-kun?” Shirogane blinked in surprise. “That’s pretty OOC,” she mumbled half to herself. Saihara wondered what the hell she was talking about.

“Ahaha, nooooo way,” Ouma brushed himself off. “I can’t stand them. I hate them more than I hate babies and pig feet. But Gonta doesn’t need to know that! He thinks I love them all because I thought of organizing this event… what an idiot.”

“T-That’s so mean!” Shirogane protested. “Taking advantage of Gonta and his hobbies like that… You’re worse than hot guys who pretend they like otaku girls only to cruelly dump them and trash their bishounen anime figurines!”

“Your experiences are not universal, Shirogane-san,” Shinguji sniffed. He narrowed his eyes at Ouma. “Surely someone such as yourself wouldn’t do such a thing merely because of insects. You must be scheming something more sinister in actuality…”

Ouma snickered, gaze darkening cruelly. “How funny that you mention that…”

“O-Ouma-kun,” Saihara began, somewhat tense. “What are you planning…?”

“Well!” Ouma clasped his hands. “I was also thinking we could use this delightful opportunity to watch each other’s motive videos.”

Everyone blanched. “Huh?!” Yumeno yelled. “No way!”

“Everyone agreed that doing so would lead to murder, Kokichi,” Angie said darkly. “We kept them hidden and refused to exchange them to fulfill God’s will.”

“Degenerates like you don’t have brain cells!” Chabashira decried him.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara said. “Even if you say that, there’s no way we’d agree to it…”

“Oh, of course not,” Ouma scoffed. He beamed. “That’s why I’m gonna steal them and make you all watch them!”

Just then, Gonta came in, brightening up upon seeing Saihara’s face. “Ah, Saihara-kun! You’re awake!” he came towards them, smiling. “Gonta apologizes for knocking you out! It was ungentlemanly, but he used too much force…”

“Apology accepted,” Saihara winced. “Um…?”

“Great job, Gonta!” Ouma’s eyes sparkled. “Now we can show everyone how amazing bugs are! Better than anything else in the whooooole wide universe! The plan will be a huuuuge success! I love bugs, so I’m happy we can share our enthusiasm, Gonta!”

“Kiss-up,” Yumeno spat.

“Degenerate twink,” Chabashira scoffed in agreement.

“Hmm, I was thinking he’d end up more like a bastard than a twink...” Shirogane tapped her chin thoughtfully. 

_What did I do to deserve this, _Saihara thought, aghast. _Please, get me out of here--_

Gonta’s eyes shone, equally radiant if not more. “Yes! Gonta is so excited to show everyone the bugs! We can start with beetle families. Agyrtidae have a very interesting role in their ecosystems, especially _Agyrtes longulus--”_

“Ahaha, hold it,” Ouma grinned. “I loooove bugs, okay? I love them more than I love grape soda. But I also have a little work to do. Remember the thing I said about motive videos, Gonta?”

“Ah-- yes,” Gonta nodded.

“I’ll be stepping out to get them then!” Ouma beamed. “It’ll take me half an hour, maybe an hour… however long the insect meeting and greeting is, that’s how long I’ll take.” He grinned as he held up a finger, warning. “Don’t skimp on the details when you’re showing everyone else the bugs, okay? They need to understand eeeevery single iota of information to understand the beauty and joy of insects.”

Saihara’s mouth fell open, betrayed. _He’s lying and sweet-talking just so he can leave the rest of us here--! _

Gonta nodded more vigorously, grinning. “Of course!”

“H-Hey! Ouma-kun!” Saihara protested. Ouma skipped away regardless. Saihara turned around, looking at the others-- all of them looked equally betrayed as he felt.

“On my island, we call people like him snakes,” Angie supplied helpfully, though her eyes were dark and filled with something similar to vengeance. “God usually shoves them into the Mariana Trench.”

“Oh?” Shinguji turned, suddenly interested. “Intriguing… Most island deities would normally have control over volcanoes and such. Do tell me about your island and its culture some other time, Angie-san.”

“Sure, Korekiyo~” 

“Where was Gonta…” Gonta paused. “Oh! That’s right.” He opened a glass case, picked up a handful of bugs, creepy and crawling all over his arms, and then brought it up near everyone’s faces. “_Agyrtes longulus _and all its family members! Say hello, everyone!”

_Ouma-kun,_ Saihara thought as he gulped, slowly inching away. _You better get back here fast._

_=_

_Now, who could have my motive video? _Hoshi wondered._ I want to see it, no matter what…_

A reason to live. A reason beyond playing tennis… Hoshi couldn’t think of anything. He felt like his life experiences were strangely empty, strangely bitter… and strangely tragic, though he wasn’t sure why.

He himself had Harukawa’s video. _The Ultimate Assassin,_ Hoshi remembered.

It had been scaring him for the past day. Harukawa Maki was an _assassin._ Now, if Harukawa had just admitted that up front, it would’ve been fine. But to go so far as to hide it… Well, that aroused a lot more suspicion.

He’d ended up watching the whole thing since he was too shocked from seeing her real ultimate talent. Stuff about an orphanage, and a dead childhood friend she was in love with, and trapped children stuck in a cult that would definitely hurt them and continue the cycle of assassin training if Harukawa didn’t escape… It was a lot of weight for one person.

_But even then, _Hoshi thought, slightly envious, _at least it’s something to live for._

Something to live for and strive to. An aspiration. Aside from tennis, what did he have?

Did he even really have tennis to begin with?

Hoshi wanted to know.

He wasn’t stupid. Just yesterday in the cafeteria, Harukawa herself had admitted that she didn’t have her own motive video. She could claim she had someone else’s, but… for now, Hoshi was willing to bet that she could have his own.

(Besides, unsavory though it was, he could always resort to using her motive video as blackmail.)

It was that hunch of Hoshi’s that led him to Harukawa’s dorm room that night. The others… most of the others weren’t in the dorm area, which meant that Gonta must’ve succeeded in kidnapping them for whatever thing was going on. _Including Saihara,_ Hoshi winced at the thought. _Sorry, pal. _There was also some screaming coming from outside around the courtyard-- was Gonta still trying to catch some people?

_Which means Ouma is probably chatting up the others about his and Gonta’s little event, _Hoshi thought. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t concerned with any of that stuff.

He knocked on Harukawa’s door, figuring that it’d get her attention better than using the doorbell. “Harukawa? It’s Hoshi,” he called quietly.

She opened the door barely an inch. “What?” she asked. 

“I need to talk to you.

“...”

Much to Hoshi’s surprise, Harukawa actually came out of the room. She scoffed when she noticed the face he’d been making. “Don’t look so startled. I know you aren’t the kind of person who’d waste my time this late at night. Unlike certain other idiots around here…”

“Come with me to the first floor stairwell,” Hoshi interrupted. _I don’t have a lot of time for this._ “I wanted to ask you for something specifically.”

Harukawa raised a brow, then followed him.

When they finally arrived, Hoshi took in a deep breath. “Do you have my motive video?”

Harukawa blinked at him, then narrowed her eyes. “Whether I do or not, why would you want it?”

“It’s my motive video. I have a right to see what Monokuma intended us to see,” Hoshi retorted.

“Your own curiosity means nothing,” Harukawa sniffed. “All a motive video will make you wanna do is either commit murder or something worse, just for the sake of escape.”

_So that’s the game you’re gonna play. _Hoshi narrowed his eyes, heart beating faster. “...You don’t have the right to lecture me about committing murder, Harukawa.”

Harukawa froze, slowly turning her gaze downwards to meet Hoshi’s. 

Hoshi clenched his jaw, looking stronger and feeling more fierce than he’d be normally. “I have your motive video, Harukawa. I know your real talent...” 

The air around them turned frigid.

“Shut the fuck up,” Harukawa growled. “If you know what’s good for you--”

“Ultimate Assassin,” Hoshi whispered. He chuckled quietly. “No wonder you didn’t want anyone in your lab…”

“Hoshi Ryouma,” Harukawa’s voice was steady and sharp, an angry, dagger-like warning. 

But even with Harukawa’s deadly aura mere inches away from himself, Hoshi stood his ground. “If you don’t show me my motive video, I’ll tell everyone who you really are.”

Harukawa grit her teeth. She stalked back to her dorm room, then came out two minutes later, having retrieved the video. “Fucking take it,” she spat. 

“Fair exchange,” Hoshi nodded sagely, producing Harukawa’s motive video from his own jacket pocket as he took his own motive video from her. “Here’s yours.”

“I don’t care for it,” Harukawa muttered, taking the console anyway. “And for the record, I didn’t look at yours beyond the introduction. Once I saw the name wasn’t mine, I turned it off. I don’t have a clue what’s in it.”

Hoshi nodded. “Thanks, Harukawa.”

Harukawa turned around, giving him the finger as she walked back to her room again. “Next time you want something stupid, I’ll just give it to you straight. No need to blackmail me.” She paused by the door. “Don’t do anything rash when you see whatever’s in there.”

Hoshi let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

Harukawa gave him a slight nod, then closed the door.

_Finally, _Hoshi thought, heart lifting somewhat. _I can see what’s out there for me. What matters to me. _

He walked to his dorm room, deciding to watch it there.

_What I have to live for..._

=

Ouma… had just heard something he _totally _wasn’t meant to hear.

He’d started looking in the courtyard for people who may have escaped Gonta’s kidnapping spree, figuring he’d pickpocket them for the motive video consoles. Unfortunately, he failed to find anyone who _didn’t_ look like a suspicious figure in lingerie. After that, Ouma decided to just look in everyone’s dorm rooms. He hadn’t expected to come across Hoshi and Harukawa’s private conversation...

Ouma’s heart pounded in his chest as he crept out from where he’d hidden. 

The Ultimate Assassin. Hoshi found out, and he’d immediately turned around and blackmailed Harukawa with it. A part of Ouma felt strangely proud of him-- Hoshi always was one of the smarter eggs in the basket, and his guts only made him a cooler guy. 

_But…_ Ouma furrowed his brows. _Hoshi’s odd devotion to seeing his motive video… can’t be a good sign. _He paused, shrugging to himself._ He’s smart and all, though, so it’s not like he’ll do anything dumb after seeing what the bears have concocted as his reason for escape… _

Ouma shook the thoughts out of his head and picked the lock to the first dorm room he saw. If he kept the others waiting, it’d be too late. He had to get all the videos he could…

=

If Ouma was right about one thing, it was that this place was hell. 

“THE BUGS ARE EATING YUMENO-SAN ALIVE!” Chabashira shrieked, desperately swatting at a witch-shaped mound of insects. “YUMENO-SAN, I’M COMING TO SAVE YOU!”

Saihara screamed, swinging his arms all over as he ran around the lab, desperately trying to shake off the bugs. Shirogane nodded in approval. _According to what I wrote, he’s alright dealing with one or two bugs, and he’s the resident bug killer in his family when his uncle is out working on cases, but he can’t deal with big swarms like this. _

“If I stay still, the bugs will leave me alone,” Shinguji chanted like a mantra, sitting cross-legged in the grass. “If I stay still, the bugs will leave me alone. If I stay still, the bugs will leave...” Unfortunately, his outfit blended in well with the foliage, and the bugs instead clung to him more thanks to all the green patches. “If I stay still…” Shinguji furrowed his brows, sweating uncomfortably. Several bugs landed on his nose, in his hair, and near his mask’s zipper; Shinguji let out a weeping noise. “Leave me alone…”

“Even on Angie’s island there aren’t this many bugs!” Angie swatted fiercely, splashing bits of paint onto the grass wherever she went. “Take that! And that! Paint attack!” she yelled at the insects. “The power of industrial chemicals and acrylics compels you to stay away! God wills it!”

Just then, a bug flew into Shirogane’s mouth; immediately, she shrieked. “EW, fuc-- bug in my mouth--!” she spat, desperately trying to clean her tongue. “Peh, pfeh!” 

“STOP FLYING NEAR ME!” Kiibo wailed as he ran around, apparently unaware of the fact that his flashlight function was turned on, and the bugs were merely following the bright light he trailed. “GONTA-KUN, PLEASE STOP THEM!”

“Aww, the bugs are giving you little kisses!” Gonta exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the torment he was bringing upon his guests. “How cute!”

_Note to self, _Shirogane coughed, hacking out whatever last residual bits of bug may have been left on her tongue and sighing. _Don’t fucking make an insect-related Ultimate participant next time. God, I should’ve made him a wolf trainer or a dog breeder or something… _

Shirogane bit her lip. _Back in character._ “K-Kiibo-kun!” she cried out. “Turn off your flashlight function!” 

“I _can’t!”_ Kiibo bellowed. “These are tropical insects; they’re attracted to the heat radiating from my mainframe, too--!”

“Oh, no!” she cried back in response.

“Aaaghh, it’s been _two hours!” _Saihara panted, tired and aghast. “Where the hell is he?!”

Ouma _was _taking a long time, now that Shirogane thought about it. Naturally, she couldn’t peek into his thought process, but the way he deviated from the group… wasn’t good. She’d have to look into him more-- maybe even switch around murder cases if only to kill him faster so the game and the show could continue.

_But that would fuck up all the character development he and the others are meant to get in the chapters where they all survive,_ she realized, dismayed. _Ahh… What to do, what to do…_

_ As stupid as this situation of yours is… You better not forget, honey. There’s no point in living. _

Saihara and some of the others looked up, confused. Shirogane screamed as more bugs divebombed her, and then the others snapped out of their reverie, continuing to run and yell. If she was lucky, they’d forget they could even hear the voice...

_There’s no point,_ Shirogane remembered. _No point at all..._

_=_

Hoshi’s motive video had nothing in it.

Nobody. Just Monokuma talking at him about how he’d eternally be a prisoner. A throwaway line about a cat, and about how “the yakuza killed a girl” that gave him a headache. Another quip about a girlfriend and his whole family being dead...

Hoshi’s eyes were wide, hand trembling as the video screen turned black. 

_There’s nothing out there for me. Nothing. Nobody._ There was nothing to his life but sort of being good at tennis. He let out a shaky sigh, getting up._ If there’s nothing I have to live for… then..._

Automatically, his legs took him back to Harukawa’s dorm room. “Harukawa,” he croaked, knocking on her door again. 

She opened the door, somewhat irritated. “What now…”

Hoshi looked her in the eye. “If I asked you to kill me, would you do it?”

Harukawa blanched. “Absolutely not.”

“You said--”

“I meant normal favors, not murder,” she interrupted. “And definitely not assisted suicide…” She sighed, massaging her temple. “See, I told you looking would be a bad idea…” 

Hoshi could only look at his feet, dejected.

Harukawa sighed again. “Just… Sleep it off. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just don’t do anything dumb tonight.”

And then she closed the door.

Hoshi stalked away, just as miserable as he’d been when he came.

_If not Harukawa… I’ll need to find someone else._

_And if there’s nobody else… Then I suppose all of them will have to have a class trial for a suicide._

_ As stupid as this situation of yours is… You better not forget, honey. There’s no point in living. _

___Yeah, _Hoshi thought, feeling more clouded than ever by the scent of mint and perfume. _There’s no point in living. No point in trying…_

He walked to his Ultimate Lab.

_I don’t want to be alive anymore..._

=

“I’m baaaaaack,” Ouma announced breezily. “And I brought all the videos!”

“IT TOOK YOU TWO HOURS,” Chabashira’s eyes bulged at him, manic. “Two! Hours! To get all the videos?!”

_Yeah! _Saihara thought, furrowing his brows.

“My precious Yumeno-san could’ve died!

_Oh, that too, I guess._

“Easy there, li’l miss lesbian,” Ouma held up a hand. “Yumeno’s probably fine.”

“Trauma…” Yumeno shivered, vigorously rubbing her hands all over her clothes. “I never wanna see another bug again…”

Saihara could agree. He’d agree to Momota’s pushup sessions a thousand times over another insect meet and greet.

“Anyway!” Ouma smiled brightly at Gonta. “The bugs are all back to sleep, right?”

Gonta nodded. “You were right when you said they’d get sleepy after a while.”

_This guy--!_ Saihara twitched in annoyance. _He purposely avoided seeing any bugs the whole time!_

“What a schemer,” Shinguji’s teeth clattered. He twisted his hair in his hands, covering it protectively.

“Great!” Ouma beamed. “Then we can watch the videos!”

Everyone looked at each other, a silent agreement to enact revenge. Then, Kiibo stepped up. “No,” he spoke out. “None of us want to. It’ll only lead to uncertain feelings and death.”

Ouma twitched. “Huuuuh… So that’s how you’re all thinking of it…”

“Not to mention--” Kiibo narrowed his eyes, pointing accusingly at Ouma. “Gonta-kun, Ouma-kun has been lying to you! He doesn’t love bugs!”

“He doesn’t?” Gonta tilted his head, mouth falling open in shock. “T-That can’t be!”

“Oh, it can be,” Kiibo sent a smug look Ouma’s way. “Behold!” He pressed the button on his arm again, and Saihara understood: his recording function.

_“You love bugs, Ouma-kun?”_

_“Ahaha, nooooo way. I can’t stand them. I hate them more than I hate babies and pig feet. But Gonta doesn’t need to know that! He thinks I love them all because I thought of organizing this event… what an idiot.”_

The recording stopped.

“Ouma-kun,” Gonta said, taking a step closer towards the supreme leader. “You lied?”

Ouma took a step back, inching towards the door. “Ahahaha…. Weeeeell….”

“We shall all be leaving for the night,” Kiibo said. “Do with this information what you will, Gonta-kun.”

“Ouma was the one who said that we all need to understand in full detail the beauty of bugs,” Chabashira said as she walked out. She punched a fist into her open hand, snickering. “So maybe Gonta should do that!”

“Eye for an eye justice is my favorite,” Shirogane’s glasses gleamed as she exited the room. “That would be lovely…”

“Get Ouma to love bugs, Gonta!! Take two hours if you have to!” Yumeno grumbled. Shinguji nodded, holding the door open for her as they walked out.

“Or maybe even two hours for each of us stuck here,” Angie’s gaze was dark, but her grin was sinister as she left. “Angie’s an artist, but basic math says that’s fourteen hours total! Bye-onara~!”

“Huh--” Ouma whirled around, eyes wide in a panic. “H-Hold on, guys? My fellow friends whom I love dearly? Pals? Buddies? Precious teammates? Everyone?”

“Bye-bye, Ouma-kun,” Saihara waved, a slight giggle on the tip of his tongue as he let the door close behind him. “Try not to faint, okay? Goodnight!”

“SAIHARA-CHAN?!” Ouma’s voice went up several octaves as he banged on the door, shaking the doorknob. “WAIT A MINUTE--”

The others stood outside the door for a moment, relishing the noise of insects buzzing and Ouma screaming seconds afterwards.

“He deserves it,” Kiibo sighed at last, beginning to walk to the dorms. The others followed, all chattering as a group.

“I feel kind of bad for him,” Saihara admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Nyeh… don’t,” Yumeno muttered. “A guy like that needs to be taught not to mess around with people.”

“‘Twas torture,” Shinguji nodded sagely. “I shall be in my room until the Magic Show tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Chabashira exclaimed, suddenly seeming to forget her earlier anger. “Yumeno’s magic show is tomorrow morning at about 10!”

“Please come see it, everyone!” Angie grinned.

“S-Sure,” Shirogane agreed. “I helped with it too, after all…”

Shinguji, Kiibo, and Saihara nodded. “Definitely,” Saihara said. He yawned. “But for now… time to sleep.”

=

“Ahh… This is bad…”

Ouma had foamed at the mouth and passed out from panic, fear, and stress after around fifteen minutes. Gonta had checked his pulse out of fear, but was relieved that his heart was still beating.

Gonta sighed. “Ouma-kun, if you’re that afraid of bugs, you should’ve just told Gonta… Gonta wouldn’t have forced you if he knew…”

Gonta rallied the bugs back into their respective areas, locking the containers tightly. “Goodnight, bugs.” He washed his hands, then went to Ouma.

After all, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to carry him back to his dorm room, right?

“Hup…” Gonta carried him bridal style, turning off the lights to his dorm room and locking the door as he left. Ouma was surprisingly light. _Barely 45 kilograms… Gonta’s used to bugs being light, but he’s never carried people this light before…_

Ouma furrowed his brows in his sleep-like state. “K… Koto… ri…”

_‘Kotori’?_ Gonta wondered who or what Ouma was dreaming about.

“DICE… Take care… of…”

_A person, probably, _Gonta decided. _But what’s a dice?_ Though Gonta was curious, it wasn’t gentlemanly to pry, so he decided he wouldn’t ask.

Gonta remembered the way Ouma had talked to him about his motive video-- _‘I saw your past, Gonta’_\-- and explained why he thought sharing the videos would be good. He was very good at explaining.

_‘We can get to know each other better. Become the bestest best friends with everyone. And then we won’t want to kill each other, right? So even if we have to use force, this is for the sake of good. The ends justify the means.’_

Gonta smiled.

_Ouma-kun is a liar, and he pranks people… but at the very least, Ouma-kun is kind. _

At last, he reached the dorm rooms. He went to Ouma’s door and realized that it was locked.

_Hmm… Ouma-kun mentioned he had lockpicks, didn’t he? It’s not gentlemanly to steal, but Ouma-kun’s unconscious right now…_ Vigorously apologizing to Ouma, Gonta reached into Ouma’s pockets and found his lockpicking tools.

_Tiny, _Gonta squinted at them, then at his large fingers and hands. _It’ll be hard to use… But for Ouma-kun’s sake, Gonta will try. _The next ten or so minutes passed with Gonta trying and failing to use the tools, until finally, he heard a welcoming _‘click’._

Messy. Ouma’s room was messy.

Gonta carefully tiptoed around all the papers and boxes and gently set Ouma down on his bed, pulling the covers and blankets over the other boy. He seemed a bit strained while they were moving, but now that he was in bed, he looked less tense. Ouma actually appeared rather peaceful and childlike as he slept.

Gonta patted Ouma’s head once, then turned, marvelling at the sheer volume of _stuff _all around. 

There was a horse’s head mask. _From the warehouse, maybe? _Gonta wondered. He looked up and then saw something else.

_A whiteboard…? With everyone’s pictures. _Gonta looked at it closely. _Oh…_

There were x’s and arrows, and other wild scribbles all over about people’s personalities, their motivations, and their murder methods and deaths. Underneath each picture was a measure of how trustworthy each person was, with everyone being labeled as tentatively suspicious except for Gonta himself and Saihara, who both had _‘trustworthy?’_ under their photos.

_Gonta sees what this is._

But it wasn’t gentlemanly to pry, so when Ouma woke up, Gonta would keep his lips sealed. Quietly moving some of the boxes on the floor, Gonta walked to the door, deciding to go sleep himself.

“Goodnight, Ouma-kun,” Gonta whispered, turning off the lights. “Sweet dreams.”

=

Hoshi went back to his lab. He couldn’t bother anyone else; most everyone was asleep. As he entered, he noticed that the door in the back that had been locked all this time was suddenly open. 

_What…? _ He walked over to it, entering the room.

Footsteps from behind the open door echoed on the walls as he walked in. But he didn’t care.

_A prison, _he thought. _I’m eternally a prisoner…_

_I don’t care anymore…_

=

Toujo was a bit tired from chasing Ouma around for an hour and lecturing him for another, but as she was doing it, she’d noticed Hoshi walking around, zombie-like, looking incredibly morose.

_Sad feelings. Depression. People who don’t want to continue onwards… A prime target._

She let Ouma go after that, and took a shortcut that she knew to Hoshi’s lab, hiding in place.

Toujo emerged from the door as Hoshi entered what appeared to be a prison section to his lab. To her surprise, Hoshi didn’t even flinch.

“What is this place?” she finally asked. “It was unlocked when I arrived here, but it doesn’t fit the Ultimate Tennis Pro lab…”

Hoshi shrugged, seeming numb. “I’m a prisoner. Of my thoughts, of this place… I’ll never be free. I’ll never have anything… to live for…”

Toujo pursed her lips. “I know this must be hard…”

“Please don’t comfort me,” Hoshi let out a shaky sigh. “Spare me. I… I don’t want it.”

_In that case… I can…_

Toujo slowly told him about her circumstances with her own motive video. “But… I don’t want to kill someone who wants to live.”

“Lucky you,” Hoshi scoffed, voice hollow. The ends of his lips curled up. “We can both use each other. This is a win-win for the two of us.” He pointed out into the main area of the laboratory. “There’s a pole over there, used for holding up nets.” He walked out of the prison area, and Toujo followed. “Take it out of its plastic covering. Think of this as an order from me, if you don’t want to do it.”

“Okay?” Toujo blinked, obeying.

Hoshi turned around. “I’ll just be over here… minding my own business… picking up tennis balls. Just cleaning up...”

And in that moment, it was as if Toujo could read his mind._ Go ahead. I’m not looking. If neither of us has anything to live for, then we can both leave this world… you physically, and me eternally._

Toujo picked up the pole and ambled towards Hoshi, holding it over his head. 

“I’m ready, Toujo,” Hoshi said softly, bending down and reaching for a tennis ball. “Go for it.”

And then she swung.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate the prime minister thing so much. so there was that. hoshi and his short-lived character arc... is hard to write for me, for reasons i'll keep secret for now.
> 
> i hope the insect meet and greet was funny?? lmao. as for the angstier bits, well :') aha
> 
> see you guys on thursday! there will be a double update of the magic show and the investigation. look forward to it!


	14. 2-4. Yumeno's Magic Show (Goodbye, Tennis Pro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinguji has a question... except he doesn't ask.
> 
> Yumeno does magic to create smiles... except it ends in sadness.
> 
> Hoshi exits the stage... except it's permanent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update! The investigation chapter (2-5, or chapter 15) will be uploaded at the same time as this chapter, so be sure to read that after!
> 
> TW for major character death and graphic depiction of violence. If you don't want to read it, skip from "Hoshi's eyes were closed" to "A familiar, light bell tone rang".
> 
> also. iruma uses the word 'wh*re' in this chapter, though it isn't directed at another student. if you see a big paragraph with her cussing, that's where she says it, so if that word makes you uncomfortable feel free to skip to the following paragraph!

Saihara groaned as the morning announcement woke him up again, slapping his bedside table to turn it off only to realize it was coming from the monitor in his room, not from an alarm clock.

_I’m surprised Momota-kun didn’t wake me up… _Saihara yawned, rubbing his eyes and shuffling off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. _Normally he rings the doorbell like crazy..._

It was only as he was putting on his clothes that he remembered the magic show. _Ah, right, that’s at about ten in the morning._ He looked at his watch. _And right now it’s only a few minutes past nine, so I have plenty of time…_

His thoughts moved on. _I wonder if Ouma-kun’s alright? He was screaming pretty loudly last night… His fear of insects is probably deeper than the rest of us assumed. Even though Yumeno-san said not to, I still do feel a bit bad…But it was pretty late at night. For all I know, he’s asleep and doesn’t want to be disturbed..._

_Is he the type that’d bother coming to the magic show? _Saihara wondered. He shook the thought out of his head, biting his lip when he felt pain from another incoming headache. _Whether he would or not, I suppose I can always ask afterwards..._

After eating breakfast in the cafeteria, he walked to the gym.

Angie, Yumeno, Shinguji, and Toujo were all setting up final arrangements. Angie noticed him first and waved wildly. “Hello, hello, Shuichi!”

“Good morning, everyone,” Shuichi replied. _How is she so energetic after last night? Absolutely cannot relate…_

“Morning, Saihara,” Yumeno replied, still looking somewhat sleepy. She yawned. “Glad you came…”

_Mood,_ Saihara thought.

“Good morning, Saihara-kun,” Shinguji echoed. He stood awkwardly to the side, allowing the girls to set up without his interference.

“Good morning,” Toujo replied, finishing placing a tablecloth near the makeshift stage. She blinked at him, “Ah, perfect. Shinguji-kun, Saihara-kun, would you two be so kind as to set up the chairs for the audience?”

“Ah-- sure,” Saihara said. Shinguji nodded. _It’ll pass the time, at least._

The others began trickling into the gym, bright and early to see the magic show. As Saihara and Shinguji were setting up chairs, Saihara felt someone’s gaze on his back. He turned around and was surprised to see Shinguji staring at him.

“Is something wrong, Shinguji-kun?” Saihara asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Shinguji took in a breath, clearly about to say something, then paused, as if opting not to. 

_Odd, _Saihara thought. _Normally he’d make that strange chuckling noise... Like ‘kehehe’ or however it is…_

Then, Shinguji spoke. “There is something that I would like to discuss with you, once we both have time.”

Saihara blinked, slowly nodding his head. “Um… sure…”

Shinguji didn’t elaborate, instead going back to the chairs. They both finished setting up.

The others chatted amicably as Yumeno finally went behind her stage to do some final preparations-- Toujo with Shinguji, Iruma with Kiibo, Shirogane with Gonta. And then there was Chabashira, sitting alone and looking somewhat dubious.

Saihara walked towards her. “Is something the matter, Chabashira-san?” he asked, somewhat concerned.

Chabashira crossed her arms. “I’m… happy that Yumeno-san is doing what she loves, and that she wants me to be able to see her magic, but…” her eyes trailed over to where Angie was, standing near the stage, clearly giggling with Yumeno, who was behind it.

_Ah…_ Saihara understood._ Jealousy, huh…_

It was the most common factor in all of his uncle’s infidelity cases. People got jealous over other people. It wasn’t mature of them, but it could happen if multiple individuals wanted to monopolize someone’s time.

“It probably means I’m special if she wants me to stay in the audience, but I can’t seem to get it out of my head…” Chabashira squinted. “Hey, why are you interested in my love life?” She assumed a fighting stance. “You better not be thinking of journaling or publishing or otherwise violating my rights with my personal information, you absolute degenerate creep--”

“A-AH, no, of course not, you just looked troubled!” Saihara scrambled. 

Chabashira relaxed, suddenly fixated on her fingernails. “Oh.” 

Saihara caught his breath, placing a hand over his chest. _She always goes from 0 to 100 in a split second… It’s bad for my heart… _He looked around. Momota still wasn’t there. Neither were Harukawa, Hoshi, nor Ouma.

But it was already about ten o’clock-- Saihara couldn’t go out to get them anymore. The curtain rose, and the magic show began.

It was more enjoyable than Saihara was anticipating. For someone who insisted they were doing real magic, the illusions themselves were spectacular and vividly realistic. Yumeno brought a bunny out of a hat, conjured roses out of nothing (giving one to Chabashira, much to the latter’s delight, and another to Angie, much to Chabashira’s annoyance), “cut” her body in half, took out fifty tied colored scarves from her mouth, and did coin tricks.

It was normal magician stuff, but even if it wasn’t real magic the way Yumeno insisted, Saihara thought it was fun.

“And now,” Yumeno declared, “for our final act this morning! My limbs shall be chained up, and I will be dropped into this tank--” she pointed at the large tank of water behind her, filled about three-quarters of the way to the top. “After sixty seconds, this tank of piranhas--” she pointed again at a smaller tank with piranhas crammed inside. “--will be dropped inside. If I don’t escape by then, the piranhas will get to me.”

Gonta’s mouth fell open in horror. “N-No! Yumeno-san, you shouldn’t do something that dangerous!”

Yumeno smiled knowingly, holding up a finger. “Worry not, Gonta. I, the great witch Yumeno Himiko, will not only escape the piranhas and the chains, but I will escape from the water completely dry!”

_It sounds impossible, _Saihara thought, biting his lip. Yet as anxious as he was, the whole ordeal honestly sounded a bit thrilling.

Chabashira wrung her hands next to him, biting her nails. “Yumeno-san… Please be safe…”

Angie chained Yumeno up. Yumeno climbed to the top of the tank. “Angie here will pull on the curtains for suspense. You won’t be able to see me til I’m completely out.”

Chabashira let out a worried whine.

“Nyahaha! Ready, Himiko?” Angie held the rope connecting to the curtain in her hands. Yumeno nodded.

Angie grinned. “Time start!”

At the same time Yumeno jumped in, Angie pulled the cord and closed the curtain. A timer above the stage began counting down.

The rest of them were restless. “I-I’m a little worried,” Shirogane admitted.

“...It’s been twenty seconds,” Kiibo frowned. “If she really has strong mana and magical powers, shouldn’t she be out by now…?”

“Don’t doubt Yumeno-san,” Toujo sighed, at the same time Iruma smacked him on the shoulder and yelled “Don’t _you _start buying into her magic bullshit too!”

_It’s been thirty seconds._ Saihara furrowed his brows. “I-Is she not out yet?”

Chabashira made more worried noises. “Yumeno-san, are you alright?! Please come out, we’re all stressed!”

“Forty seconds,” Shinguji narrowed his eyes. “Angie-san, are you positive she’ll be able to escape?”

“She’ll be out soon,” Angie grinned.

Chabashira let out a huff. “Why do _you_ get to know how she does the trick, anyway…”

Immediately, Gonta stood up. “It’s been fifty seconds! Gonta can’t take this anymore!” Saying so, he charged, leaping up to the stage and climbing on top of the tank. “YUMENO-SAN, GONTA WILL RESCUE YOU!”

“Gonta!” Angie protested from below. “Go back to your seat, Himiko is fine--”

“Huh…” Gonta looked about, confused. What…”

The timer reached zero. At the same time the piranhas dropped in, Angie lifted the curtain. 

And then they saw--

“Hoshi-kun?!” Saihara exclaimed, shocked.

Hoshi’s eyes were closed, and his hands were handcuffed in front of him as he floated in the water. The fish swirled around him menacingly, turning the surrounding water pink, then bright red, as they shredded his clothes and ate all of his meat and skin with their sharp teeth.

Screaming. Gasping. Terror. 

“Hoshi-kun!” Toujo, Saihara, Gonta-- everyone was shouting and freaking out.

Chabashira ran up to the glass, trying and failing to break it with her aikido moves. “CRAP-- AGH, IT WON’T BREAK-- _HOSHI!”_

Gonta leapt down from the top of the tank, trying to break it from there. “HOSHI-KUN!”

Kiibo yelled, clutching his head in pain. “Voices-- loud-- it’s so_ loud--!_

Nobody could do a thing. As the fish swirled away, swimming around in the water, Hoshi’s skeleton sank to the bottom of the tank.

A familiar, light bell tone rang. _“Attention, students! A body has been discovered! Everyone assemble in the gym. After a brief period of time, an investigation period will begin. A body has been discovered!”_

Everyone stood, numb and shocked.

Just as the announcement ended, Yumeno came out from behind the tank, perfectly dry as she’d said she would be. “Tada!” she grinned. Upon seeing the grim, fearful looks on everyone’s faces, she frowned. “H-Hey, my magic worked, didn’t it? So why…” She turned, finally seeing the tank. “Why’s the water red...?” she furrowed her brows.

“Come around to where we are, Yumeno-san,” Shirogane gulped. “A-And then… look down… At the bottom of the tank…”

“Down…?” Yumeno walked around, confused. When she finally lowered her gaze, her eyes widened in recognition, and then she screamed. “Wh-- Why-- Why’s there a skeleton in my tank?!”

“It was the tennis guy,,” Iruma scowled. “Hoshi. When the piranhas were let out, he also fell into the tank… and the fish…” she gulped, putting a hand over her mouth. “Fuckin’....” Even Iruma was too sickened by what she’d seen.

Yumeno covered her ears, shrieking. “Don’t tell me! Don’t say it! Absolutely don’t elaborate, I can already guess! LALALALALA--”

Even Angie looked shocked, upset that her friend and tennis partner had died. “Ryouma…”

“He was… eaten alive…” Gonta whimpered. “Gonta was too weak to save him…! Hoshi-kun…”

Saihara narrowed his eyes. _Eaten alive... Why does my gut tell me that’s not the case? _He was snapped out of his reverie byMonokuma’s entrance into the gym.

“Ohoho, this looks horrible!” the bear grinned with glee, completely unfazed. “Poor Hoshi.” 

“Fucker, get the fuck out of our faces!” Iruma growled, looking as if she wanted to step on Monokuma with her spiked boots on and kill him right then and there. “He fucking died right in front of us! He was fucking--_ eaten alive right in front of our eyes,_ he was one of us and we’re all getting headaches and this shit’s too much, so quit being a useless whiny bitchass whore and--”

“H-HEY!” Momota burst into the gym, followed by Ouma and Harukawa. “THERE WAS A BODY DISCOVERY ANNOUNCEMENT?! WHAT’S--” he trailed off, skidding to a stop in front of the tank. “--going… on…” Momota stared at the bloody water, horrified. “What… what the fuck is this…? Didn’t you guys say this was just gonna be a normal magic show?!”

Harukawa clicked her tongue at the sight of the bloody water, then looked around the room to do a headcount. “Everyone’s here except--”

“Hoshi, huh,” Ouma murmured, glassy, disbelieving eyes fixed on the small skeleton in the water.

“Well, then,” Monokuma called gleefully, ignoring all of them as well as Iruma’s outburst. “Now that everyone’s here…”

The remaining students looked at each other warily. _Not again. Another murder… Why did this happen?_

_Who could’ve done this?_

“Your time to investigate has begun.”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip hoshi :'(


	15. 2-5. Investigation/Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruma and Kiibo have a talk.
> 
> Shinguji ponders the humanity of Shuichi Saihara.
> 
> Ouma has a revelation about the killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ 2-4 (chapter 14) YET, GO BACK AND READ THAT FIRST.
> 
> part of me feels extremely "meh" about this chapter..... it might just be irl circumstances or physical health making me :///, but i've been feeling a bit down mentally lately in terms of self-confidence in my writing. regardless, i hope this chapter and the previous one are both up to par.

Right as Monokuma said that and left, the information had been dispatched to their Monopads. Saihara immediately swiped through to look.

**VICTIM: **HOSHI RYOUMA

**AGE: **[REDACTED]

**SEX:** [REDACTED]

**GENDER: **M

**LOCATION OF DEATH: **[REDACTED]

**CAUSE OF DEATH: **DROWNING + CONSUMPTION BY PIRANHAS

**TIME OF DEATH: **[REDACTED]

**KILLER: **[REDACTED]

“Hey, what the fuck?” Iruma growled, furrowing her brows as she swiped through her own Monopad. “Why’s all this shit censored?!” 

“First off,” Ouma interrupted, “we need to break the tank.”

“H-Huh?” Saihara blinked, looking up from his Monopad.

Ouma nodded. “Break the tank. The glass will shatter and the water will flow out. It’ll be hell to clean up, but… we can get rid of the fish and collect his body quicker.”

Everyone looked around. “B-But,” Yumeno bit her lip. “What do we break it with…? Even Chabashira and Gonta weren’t strong enough to break the glass…”

“Something heavy…” A lightbulb went off in Saihara’s head. “Kiibo-kun, didn’t you tell me the other day you weighed around eighty or ninety kilograms?”

Kiibo looked at Saihara with great offense. _“Excuse me?! _That’s so robophobic! I expected more from you, Saihara-kun! I might be made of metal, but we are_ not _using my body as a means of-- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Gonta and Chabashira, apparently both on the same page, hoisted Kiibo up in their strong arms and threw him across the gym, causing him to slam into the glass before he could voice any more dissent. The glass tank smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces, and the water and fish flowed out as Ouma predicted.

“Kiibo-kun!” Shirogane shrieked, mortified. She rounded on Gonta and Chabashira. “S-Stop it! What’s wrong with you guys?! H-He could’ve been seriously hurt by that!”

“You’re all so mean,” Kiibo groaned, looking a bit loopy. “My head already hurts, but this made it worse… If I had the capability of crying right now, I would...” He touched the back of his head. “And my antenna-hair feels oddly loose…”

Iruma clicked her tongue. “Come over to my lab. I’ll fix you up while these chucklefucks investigate. Consider it a maintenance check.”

Kiibo nodded, hiccuping. “Thank you, Iruma-san…”

“S-Sorry, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara winced apologetically. “I just threw out whatever ideas came into my head…”

Kiibo staggered away, Iruma close beside him. “Thank you, but it’s not your fault, Saihara-kun.” He furrowed his brows, annoyed. “You had no way of knowing that they’d immediately jump on the idea and slam dunk me into the tank like Kobe or something…”

Iruma stifled a snort. 

_Ko-what? _Saihara tilted his head, then shook the thought out. _Whatever, I have to focus on the investigation._

The rest of them took time to clean up. Once they had disposed of the water and the piranhas, and covered up Hoshi’s remains, they began looking around.

“I shall go around asking for everyone’s testimonies in Kiibo-kun’s stead,” Toujo offered. “Since he will be in Iruma-san’s shop for repair for a foreseeable amount of time…”

The others nodded. “Good thinking, Toujo-chan,” Ouma grinned.

“I shall leave to go get a notebook,” Toujo bowed, walking out of the gym. “I will return with haste.”

Momota tapped Saihara’s shoulder. “Investigate with me?” he raised a brow. “Heroes and sidekicks oughta stick together, ‘n two heads are better than one, so…”

Saihara blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Sure.”

=

_‘Slam dunking him into the tank like Kobe’.... Man, that’s priceless. It reminds me a lot of **him** in particular…_

Iruma froze. _What’s this?_

She had been operating on Kiibo in her lab when she noticed it. Her thoughts on Kiibo’s earlier quip and her headache from thinking about it both dissipated.

“Hey,” Iruma said, slowly taking off her goggles and rising up from Kiibo’s body in horror. “What the fuck is this?”

Kiibo grimaced, awkwardly trying to smile. “Um. Party fireworks? Good for all occasions?”

_Oh, that’s pathetic. Even guys who lie about their dick size are more confident in their answers than that..._

Iruma jabbed a finger at his open chest, ignoring the wires and his squirming. “Don’t ignore me, Kiibo. Why the fuck do you have a fucking _rocket_ inside you? And fucking laserbeam cannons in your arms?”

Kiibo rolled his eyes, averting her gaze. “Can we not talk about this while I’m on an operating table?” His cheeks turned pink. “And not when your chest is pressing up against me…”

A vein popped on Iruma’s forehead. She pressed up against him further, gritting her teeth and ignoring Kiibo’s slight whimper. _“Answer. The question.”_

“O-Okay, okay, I’ll tell you, just--! Please get off me!” Kiibo flushed, pointedly looking away from her chest and nearby arm muscles. “My wiring’s sensitive!”

_...He’s surprisingly cute for a machine. And his embarrassed reactions are pretty sexy. He seems like an M though. What a fucking shame. We’re the same... _

Iruma shook the dirty thoughts out of her head despite wanting to think about them longer, instead choosing to get off of Kiibo and cross her arms as he sat up. She raised a brow. “Well?” Iruma demanded impatiently. “You always knew about this? And never bothered telling us?”

Kiibo rubbed his arm. “I’ve… yeah,” he admitted. “I didn’t want the others to get scared and think of me as a killing machine… and I don’t intend to use them to hurt other people.”

“Go on,” Iruma goaded.

“I don’t remember how or why I got them,” Kiibo confessed. “I can only guess that the professor in the few memories I do have--” he winced-- “--put them in me as a last-resort attack measure…”

Iruma stared at him. “Laserbeam cannons. And a rocket jetpack thingy.”

Kiibo flushed. “I-- I know it’s ridiculous! But it’s part of my body, so I have to take care of it. Please don’t take it out!”

Iruma sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “‘Course not, dumbass. It’s an insult to the person who invented you to alter their creation too much…”

Kiibo beamed. Then, his smile fell. “But…”

Iruma blinked. _But…?_

“I’ve been thinking this whole time,” Kiibo looked at his metallic frame, stretching his fingers out. “These cannons… are incredibly powerful. I haven’t ever used them or even tested them out, but it’s a gut instinct. So I was thinking…” He looked up at Iruma. “What if I used these to fly up to the cage trapping us in the academy and break it?”

Iruma frowned. “I already tested some of my laserbeam babies on it the first week we were here. Even the strongest ones didn’t do jack shit.”

“Then…” Kiibo licked his lips, quiet and serious. “You saw how I crashed Yumeno-san’s massive water tank earlier.”

Iruma’s eyes widened, already realizing what he was trying to say. _No way in hell._

“What if I used the rocket jets and laser beams to gain momentum and then crash myself into-”

Iruma shoved him down on the operating table, ignoring his protests. “Absolutely fucking not,” she hissed. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“W-What?” Kiibo furrowed his brows, raising his voice. “It’s a good alternative to being stuck here in this killing game!”

Iruma tightened her grip on Kiibo, putting her goggles back on and continuing to operate. “Did you learn nothing,” she grit her teeth, “from what happened to Akamatsu and Amami?”

Kiibo was silent.

“You didn’t,” Iruma continued, switching tools. “You didn’t, because if you did, then you’d understand that self-sacrifice for the sake of the group is the _stupidest fucking thing you can do. _All it’ll do is get you killed. And then what? Everyone mourns you?” She slammed the wrench down onto the table of tools beside her. “Fuckin’ weak as shit. Put that effort into actually finding a way to help everyone involved without dying yourself!”

“But…”

“No buts,” Iruma bit her lip. “Mysterious piercing twink dude knew some shit and tried going into the mastermind’s bookshelf room. Prolly figured he’d help everyone out without telling them anything, and what ended up happening to him?” Iruma made a slicing motion near her neck. “Insta-death. When big-tit music chick came up with her own plan to kill the mastermind without telling anyone, what ended up happening to her?!” She repeated the neck-slicing motion. 

“But that’s _different,” _Kiibo insisted. “I’m telling _you _about this idea, aren’t I? I’m not keeping it a secret like Amami-kun or Akamatsu-san--”

“You’re still _planning_ it, and that alone is just as self-destructive.” Iruma put on the last few screws onto Kiibo’s metal frame, then wiped the sweat off her brow with her hands, leaving a smudge of oil on her forehead. She moved the goggles to her forehead, letting a few wispy, curly blonde strands fall out and frame her messy-looking face. Her toned biceps bulged, wonderfully strong and human as she moved.

“If I have these tools available to me…” Kiibo began, once again trying to focus his gaze on the ceiling instead of on Iruma’s body. “If I have powerful weapons at my disposal, then I can sacrifice myself so they can live.”

Iruma grabbed him by his metal collar, yanking him close to her until they were mere inches apart. “Shut up,” she practically spat. “Why can’t you just_ live for them_ instead?”

Stunned silence.

Iruma let go. “Live for them. Live on _with_ them. Maybe it’s because you’re a robot, or maybe not, I’unno. But you don’t understand how precious life is and how short it is until you’re close to death.”

Kiibo rubbed his collar. “You…” he narrowed his eyes. “Sound as if you’ve experienced it, Iruma-san…”

Iruma put on finishing touches of paint on Kiibo. “I was in a coma for seven years. From when I was five to when I was twelve.” She bustled around, putting everything back in its place. “I lost all of my elementary school years to it. When I finally woke up, I panicked. Life was short. I’d missed out all these fun things, and I was behind everyone else development-wise, just like that.”

Kiibo’s eyes widened. “Iruma-san…”

“I didn’t have normal friends in my town who were my age. I didn’t have field trips, or play dates, or fun adventures in the playground…” Iruma furrowed her brows, throwing a bit more vigor into her work. “No fingerpainting or kanji practice or doing shitty book reports on baby stories. No joy from losing my first tooth or even celebrating the need to get a training bra. Nothing. I didn’t get to do _anything._ Death stole my life from me.” 

“So you invent things,” Kiibo said slowly. “And that gives you and your life meaning…?”

Iruma nodded. “Creating as many things as possible as fast as I fucking can,” she sighed, “so that I can make a difference in the world before I get snatched away forever.”

She whirled around, grinning as if she hadn’t just revealed her soul-sucking past to Kiibo out of nowhere. “Anyway! You’re done!”

“Thank you, Iruma-san…” Kiibo paused. “I won’t mention what you just told me… so please don’t tell anyone else about the rockets. Or the cannons.”

Iruma’s grin fell. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’ll keep it a secret. As long as you don’t actually try pulling that shit you suggested, I won’t make a peep.”

Kiibo beamed. “I won’t do it. At least… not now.”

_Not just ‘now’, do it permanently! _Iruma’s mouth fell open. “H-Hey, Kiibo--!”

“Thank you, Iruma-san,” Kiibo waved, running out the door. “I’ll be going off to investigate now!”

=

“Let’s look at the body first,” Momota made the call. Saihara nodded, following him.

He felt ill looking at the bones, but strangely enough, Saihara also felt like he was already used to it-- used to seeing dead bodies. _Does this… does this have to do with that Ultimate Hunt memory we saw earlier…?_

The thought alone gave him a headache, so he stopped thinking about it. 

“The handcuffs ended up floating away from the skeleton,” Saihara murmured. _There are scratches on them…?_

“The staircase next to where the tank used to be is particularly wet,” Momota noted aloud, stroking his beard as if he was an old-timey detective. “Maybe ‘cause of the water?”

“No, it’s because of the fish guts,” Harukawa scoffed sarcastically besides them. “Obviously it was because of the water, you moron.”

Momota blanched. “H-Hey, I’m just trying to state what we know here! I’m not dumb!”

“Debatable,” Harukawa rolled her eyes.

_Hm…_ Saihara put a pensive hand over his mouth. “I’m going to Yumeno-san’s lab to see if she has any other similar equipment. Momota-kun, keep going without me. I’ll be back soon.”

“Ah--” Momota blinked. “Hey, Shuichi--!”

But before he could do anything, Saihara had already left the gym.

=

They were all lucky that there was a spare tank and staircase set in Yumeno’s lab. The dry uniform sets hanging on the wall were also rather easy hints to the fact that Yumeno must’ve changed clothes after escaping so she could appear dry as she had claimed she would. 

Shinguji’s real problem was trying to see the trick behind the tank without offending the small magician’s chuunibyou sensibilities.

_Humanity is beautiful, but sometimes, it can be so, so stupid._

At that moment, Saihara came into the lab. Immediately, the detective seemed to notice the uniforms on the wall, as well as the spare tank and staircase. He walked towards the tank.

“Hold it!” Yumeno said, holding an arm up to shield the tank. “What’s the password?”

Saihara blinked, incredulous. “Huh?”

“What’s the password! I won’t let you look through my lab unless you give me apple evidence--”

“I believe you meant to say _‘ample,’_ Yumeno-san,” Shinguji sighed.

“Apple, banana, whatever! Give me proof that shows that you believe in my magic and won’t just call it a lame trick!”

Saihara stared. “There’s been a murder, Yumeno-san. You can either let me see the props, or you can get executed at the trial because you were being stubborn. Your choice.”

Shinguji’s eyebrows rose. _Cutthroat,_ he thought, both impressed and rather pleased. Saihara had always been quiet, and a bit of an enigma, but he was rather chilling with his words when he needed to be. A bit emotionally fragile, rather unconfident in himself, but when push came to shove, he was reliable, all thanks to his upbringing by his aunt and uncle.

(Which Shinguji, of course, now knew the details of.)

Yumeno’s lip wobbled. “F-Fine. Just because we’re investigating!”

Saihara walked past her and looked through, gently running his hand over the tank and staircase. After reaching a certain point, his eyes widened, and he fixated his gaze on certain areas, poring over them.

_He looks rather like an owl,_ Shinguji decided. _Wide eyes, shallow breathing… It’s the same face I make when I get invested in ancient cultural texts or artifacts…_

Shinguji was the observing type more than he was the direct interacting type. Looking at people, taking in the way they acted and surmising reasons why… It was part of his talent. He loved humans, and Saihara was no exception.

“Is there a hatch somewhere, perhaps?” Shinguji walked towards Saihara. 

Saihara nodded. “On the side of the tank. There’s a matching one on the staircase too. There’s no mistake…” He placed a pensive hand over his mouth, resuming that detective-like pose.

Shinguji walked away, satisfied with what he’d seen. _Saihara-kun doesn’t seem too fazed. He’s doing well._

_I can only pray that my other worries about him truly are baseless… _

=

“You were in this Insect Meet and Greet, Shirogane-san?”

Shirogane nodded, and Toujo wrote it down expertly onto the notepad she had painstakingly gotten all the way from the warehouse. Her handwriting was perfectly neat and loopy in all the right places. 

“I was with Kiibo-kun,” Shirogane ticked off names on her fingers, “Saihara-kun, Yumeno-san, Angie-san, Gonta-kun, Chabashira-san, and Shinguji-kun. Ouma-kun left in the middle, but came back and stayed in the room until after the rest of us minus Gonta-kun finally went to bed.”

Toujo nodded, writing it down. “For that matter, I can personally attest to Ouma-kun’s alibi for at least part of the missing period in-between.” She clicked the pen closed and smiled. “Thank you very much for your cooperation, Shirogane-san.”

Shirogane shifted her weight from foot to foot. “N-No problem. You’ve helped with the magic show and cooking multiple times a day and cleaning and all that sort of stuff too, so…”

Toujo shook her head as she walked away. “It is only part of my job.”

She’d give Kiibo the information in the notebook once he came back. As for other alibis, Momota and Harukawa didn’t appear to have any…

_Neither do you._

_Act, _Toujo reminded herself. _Put on an act. You already play the role of a perfect maid. You fake it until you make it. So if you fake it and act like you aren’t the culprit, then--_

She sighed.

Around then, Kiibo returned. “Ah, Toujo-san!” he beamed. “I heard from Iruma-san that you interviewed people while I was gone?”

Toujo nodded, giving him the notebook. “Unfortunately, I was only able to question Shirogane-san, but I do believe the notes in here should be of use.”

Kiibo looked through the notes, then closed the notebook. “It is helpful, thank you! Your handwriting is very beautiful, by the way!”

Toujo bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, Kiibo-kun. Now, I think I should move elsewhere…”

_I’ll make myself scarce. I’ll help someone out if they need me, but otherwise, I’ll stay scarce. I can’t let my and Hoshi-kun’s win-win agreement go to waste…!_

Her heart pounded in her chest.

_Don’t get caught, Kirumi._

=

“The glass panel in the tank…?” Chabashira furrowed her brows. She then looked up at the open piranha tank, still hung over where the bigger tank used to be. “It had to come from up somewhere, right? There’s no reason for there to be an extra panel that small in a tank that big otherwise…”

“The piranhas were pretty squished together, now that Angie thinks about it,” Angie quipped, squishing her own cheeks. “Ryouma’s body also had to have come from the tank, hmm…”

Chabashira glanced at Angie warily out of the corner of her eye. The artist’s general cheer was strangely sickening to her. Yet at the same time… Chabashira couldn’t help but feel like they were connected somehow. Yumeno aside, Angie also made her headaches worse…

“God says that the glass panel probably separated Ryouma’s body from the piranhas,” Angie mused. “Whether he was alive or not isn’t clear, though.”

“Ah, so it’s like that thing… What do scientists call it again?” Chabashira sighed. “Scarecrow-ringer? Like, that cat and box thing where you don’t know what’s really there or not...”

“It’s _Schrodinger,” _Momota’s astounded voice came out from behind them. He rubbed his temple. “‘Scarecrow-ringer’, she says. What the hell, I’m gonna cry…”

Iruma also joined in the conversation, clicking her tongue in irritation. “Holy _fuck, _you guys are dumb as balls…”

Chabashira bristled; Angie laughed in the same ‘nyahahaha’ way that she always did, though this time, it seemed to be laced with passive-aggression. “Tenko and Angie aren’t scientists,” Angie said sweetly. “Tenko’s an athlete. God and Angie are artists.”

“Astronauts do just as much athletic activity as aikido masters,” Momota raised a brow. 

“Oh yeah?” Chabashira asked, suddenly feeling heated. “Climb up the stage with me so we can look out the window. Since the piranha tank is up there we might find clues.”

“H-Huh?!”

“Don’t fall and die,” Harukawa yawned from beside Momota.

Angie pursed her lips, as if brought back to reality by Harukawa’s statement. “Mm. Be careful, Tenko. And you too, Kaito. After Rantaro and Kaede and Ryouma, Angie doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt…”

Chabashira’s gaze softened._ Agh, see, I can’t even be jealous of her when she’s this nice despite her creepiness!_ “We’ll be safe, Angie-san! Don’t worry!”

“T-Take that back, Harukawa!” Momota yelled back. “Of course I won’t _fall,_ who do you think I am?!” He puffed up his chest with a scoff. “I’m Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars!”

“I’m already up here, degenerate spaceman,” Chabashira waved from the windowsill triumphantly. The indignant squawking noise Momota made was pure music to her ears. Ignoring him, she peered out the window. “Huh, it’s the pool!”

“Really?” Momota finally climbed up, hardly breaking a sweat as he joined her. “Oh, wow, you’re right…” he looked down, brushing the windowsill. “‘N there’re scratches on the windowsill, too…”

“The window here is at the same level as that other mysterious window on the other side,” Chabashira pointed out. “Maybe we should go see where it leads to.”

Momota nodded. “I think our job here is done, for the most part. Let’s go!”

=

_Joking and having inane discussions on random crap and running around like they didn’t just watch Hoshi get eaten by flesh-eating fish… Whether he was eaten alive or he was already dead, the whole thing makes me sick to my stomach._

_And what makes me sicker is the fact that none of the others are taking this as seriously as I am. Except maybe Saihara, who made the right call and ditched that shitty perm boy Momota as soon as possible..._

Ouma looked at Gonta, who was walking calmly and quietly beside him to the pool room to check out if any evidence was left there. 

_And then there’s this big guy… He takes being a gentleman so seriously that he won’t even pry when he’s curious about something. It can get kinda boring, but he’s good friend material, for sure._

Ouma tugged on Gonta’s sleeve.

“Ah-- yes?” Gonta asked.

“You were the one who brought me back to my room last night, weren’t you,” Ouma mumbled in a low voice, hiding his mouth and the slight pink color of his cheeks behind his scarf. “...Thank you.”

Gonta smiled. “Of course, Ouma-kun! It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And you’re Gonta’s friend, after all!”

_Aaaaah, that smile’s too innocent… It’s too much like all the younger kids at DICE… But what if he’s just acting to get on my good side? If he brought me back to my room, he had to have seen all that weird shit inside… Ahhh, what if he’s just trying to string me along and manipulate me so he can kill me later--_

Ouma shook the thoughts out of his head. _You can’t afford to already be this paranoid, Kokichi. You can’t already be turning into someone like **her.**_

** __ ** _Focus. Don’t think about that right now. Investigate. _

Well, his hunch was that it was Harukawa. An assassin killing the guy who found out her identity wasn’t at all an unreasonable assumption.

At least, that’s what he thought until he finally saw the things in the pool.

“An inner tube…?” Gonta furrowed his brows. “And a ripped cloth.”

_Assassins wouldn’t bother with a murder this convoluted. No… I hate to admit it, but this was someone else._

_“Black _cloth?” Ouma twisted a strand of hair in his fingers, thinking. “Hm…” 

Everyone had a change of clothes in their ultimate labs as well as their dorm rooms. And Ouma himself had been to everyone’s door rooms, back when he was stealing the motive videos. 

In fact, one person in particular had their own video, now that he thought about it...

_Black cloth… Black cloth…_

He recalled that particular person’s gloves, and suddenly everything made sense. Ouma whirled around, looking at the inner tube again.

_As for the actual method that involves using the inner tube..._

Ouma looked at the mysterious window, then at the gym window directly across from it, then back to the mysterious window again.

“The answer has to be over there.”

=

After much running around, Kiibo had finally gotten everyone’s alibis. It was a massive pain, but he had done it.

Some people were intentionally vague, and that alone would have to be cleared up in the trial, but it was okay. While he still could, Kiibo resolved to take Iruma’s advice to heart.

_I’ll help the others while I’m still alive… And I’ll put forth 110% of my effort into helping us all **stay** alive. I won’t let this killing game bog me down!_

=

Saihara finally made his way to Hoshi’s lab, the last place he figured he had to check before the trial. Momota and Chabashira were also there, much to his surprise.

“Momota-kun?” he asked.

Momota brightened up just by the sight of Saihara. “Shuichi! Good to see you again.” Momota gave him a nudge to the shoulder. “It’s good to see ya, but you better not pull that sorta stunt again! Don’t abandon me like that, sidekick!” he scolded.

“Ah… sorry about that,” Saihara laughed awkwardly, still genuinely happy to see Momota regardless. “I got carried away checking out a bunch of things elsewhere…”

“Pack it up, degenerate lovebirds,” Chabashira rolled her eyes, feigning extreme disgust. “You can have your bromantic reunion later. Let’s check out the open room here that wasn’t open before first.”

Momota rubbed the back of his neck. Saihara flushed. “It’s not--” both of them began at the same time. They paused, also at the same time, then looked at each other before turning back to Chabashira. “It’s not like that--”

They turned even redder.

Chabashira clicked her tongue. “See, you even get flustered in sync. That’s what happens to degenerates who operate in a pack…” She put her hands on her hips, turning around. “Anyway! The door that used to be locked is open, so let’s go!”

“Sure,” Momota sighed, walking behind her. “Let’s go in.”

Saihara glanced at Momota. _Are we…?_ Momota certainly didn’t seem as flustered as Saihara felt. _We’re friends, but…_ Saihara shook his head. _No, I can think about that sort of stuff later… The investigation is more important now. _Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed some ropes.

Saihara bent down to inspect them. _Ordinary rope with some frays in the middle… and some tennis rope wrapped up near it…? There’s also a bunch of tennis nets set up fully straight in the other corner. _He got back up, following Momota and Chabashira into the room.

And he was shocked to see that it was a prison.

“A prison section to a tennis lab…? What does this mean?” Saihara wondered aloud. He walked near the sink, then furrowed his brows. _Scratches on the sink’s edge..._

But Momota and Chabashira weren’t paying attention to him. They were looking out the window.

“AH!” Momota yelled, pointing out the window. 

“It leads to the gym window on the other side!” Chabashira exclaimed, equally stunned. 

Saihara narrowed his gaze. _The windows are the exact same level… And there was rope and other wire in the main part of Hoshi-kun’s lab… _Saihara moved closer to Momota and Chabashira, peering out the window himself. _The pool room connects them… _He looked closer._ Huh? What’s that in the pool?_

“An inner tube and some black floaty thing,” Chabashira squinted.

_An inner tube? And what floaty thing?_

Momota opened the window. “HEEEEY! GONTA!” he called out at Gonta and Ouma, who were below in the pool room. Momota pointed at the pool. “WHAT’S THE SMALL BLACK THINGY IN THE POOL?!”

The two paused. Then, Ouma grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling back before Gonta could. “YOUR MOM!”

Momota twitched, angry. “FUCK OFF, OUMA! WHAT IS IT ACTUALLY?!”

“NISHISHI! I SAID YOUR MOM, MOMOTA-CHAAAAN! THAT’S THE ONLY HINT YOU GET! IT’S A LEFTOVER PIECE OF EVIDENCE FROM YOUR MOM!”

“ARRGH, SHADDAP!”

Gonta placed a hand on Ouma’s shoulder, looking distressed. Ouma pouted, then allowed Gonta to yell back. “IT’S A BLACK CLOTH, MOMOTA-KUN, CHABASHIRA-SAN!”

Chabashira yelled back this time. “A BLACK MOTH?”

Gonta looked excited all of a sudden. “A BLACK MOTH? WHERE?! GONTA LOVES ALL BUGS, INCLUDING MOTHS!”

_Oh my god, stop this idiocy. _Saihara tapped both Momota and Chabashira’s shoulders. “He’s saying it’s a black cloth, you two.” Their eyes shone, mouths opening in an ‘o’ shape, now understanding.

“COOL, THANKS!” Momota turned around and yelled, closing the window. He sighed. “A black cloth and an inner tube, huh… Glad we got that over with.”

_I don’t totally get it, but those two pieces of evidence might help best when we piece together everything else in the trial. Now, most important to explain to the two of them..._

“There’s several odd things in this area,” Saihara blurted out. One by one, he pointed them out.

Momota did that odd beard-stroking gesture again. “Hmm… It’s all so weird. What could it mean…”

Chabashira shrugged. “We’ll find out at the trial.”

As if sensing what Chabashira had said, a bell tone rang.

_“Attention, students! The investigation period has ended. Please make your way to the fountain in the courtyard to go to the trial room. The investigation period has ended!”_

The three of them looked at each other, gazes suddenly steely. _Right,_ Saihara thought belatedly. _Now… Now that we’ve heard this announcement, we absolutely can’t joke around. No matter what, there’s no hiding from the reality that we have to hold a trial._

_And there’s no hiding from the fact that no matter what, at least one of our friends will end up being executed for the crime of killing Hoshi Ryouma-kun._

=

The students quickly gathered by the statue again, more wary than they were the first time.

_We have all the evidence, _Saihara thought. _All that’s left is to reveal it. Don’t be afraid of the truth. Uncover the mystery and save your friends. Fulfill Kaede’s will--!_

The statue moved, and they entered the elevator. As the doors closed, they shuttled down, down, down…

_Ding._

...And entered the trial room once again.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiibo's Ch. 6 armageddon mode is very cool, but like... wouldn't Iruma have seen it in his system in the earlier chapters since she always did maintenance on him? I've always wondered about it, so food for thought. I also enjoy the terrible, angsty, divisive theme of self-sacrifice, so expect that to come into play more often!
> 
> As for Saihara and Kaito being dumb................ well. think of that as just Teenage Spirit exposing itself.
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated. thanks for reading, everyone <3 it's 1 am over here, i'm sleepy! see you all next week.
> 
> EDIT: I messed up/forgot to mention!!! tuesday is meant to be another double update with both the trial chapter and the execution chapter. see you all then!


	16. 2-6. The Second Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma lies by omission, and succeeds.
> 
> Saihara lies by proxy, and succeeds.
> 
> Toujo lies by acting, and fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooo hoooooooo ooooo we r HERE boys.... and it's sad in the house... ouch
> 
> the first trial was a bit of an exception in that it was split into two parts. for this trial and all the others following it, the trial is one (1) chapter alone.
> 
> with that in mind, this chapter is a bit longer. i hope you all enjoy it.

As Monokuma explained the rules of the trial again, Toujo bit the inside of her cheek.

_Be helpful. Be kind. Be a useful maid._

_If you can act well, nobody will suspect you…_

=

Just like with the first trial, the second trial started with an awkward silence. Then, Momota spoke up. “Alright, let’s review what we know happened.”

“Bold words for someone who didn’t even come to my show,” Yumeno muttered.

Momota tsked. “Now ain’t the time to be petty, Yumeno…”

“What! You missed real, actual magic!”

Iruma sighed. “For the last time, there is no such thing--”

“IS TOO!”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Ouma suddenly began crying loud, obnoxious tears, interrupting the two of them. “MY POOR BELOVED HOSHI-CHAN GOT EATEN ALIIIIIIIIIIVE!”

“No,” Saihara spoke up, cutting off anyone who might’ve wanted to comment on Ouma’s wailing. “No, he wasn’t. If he was actually alive, there would have been bubbles coming from his mouth or nose-- some sort of indication that he was breathing or struggling from pain in the tank of water. But there weren’t any.” Saihara held his chin up, putting a hand in front of his mouth pensively. “Not to mention, the Monopads confirm that Hoshi-kun died from drowning as well, not just from the fish… I’m a hundred percent positive. Hoshi-kun was already dead by the time the piranhas ate his body.”

The others stared at him, stunned. Last trial, Saihara was practically cowering away from the truth, keeping his mouth shut along with all of his analyses. But now, he was immediately spitting out the facts.

“Regardless of how Hoshi-kun died,” Toujo interrupted, “I believe there’s someone we must first point out as a clear candidate for the culprit.” She looked at Yumeno.

“M-Me?!” Yumeno pointed at herself. “No way! You saw how surprised I was!”

“Anyone can put on an act,” Ouma grinned cruelly. “Face it, Yumeno-chan! You’re toootally suspicious here.”

“If you explain how your little magic trick was done, we might be able to eliminate you as a suspect,” Iruma sneered.

“It wasn’t a trick!” Yumeno stomped her foot. “Magic is real, and that includes the magic I did at the show!”

Saihara grimaced. “Yumeno-san…”

“S-She’s right!” Chabashira said. “Leave Yumeno-san alone!”

“Ohmigosh, really, Chabashira-chan?” Ouma’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “You’re really gonna take Yumeno-chan’s side just because you liiiike her? Waaaah! How romantic!”

“I-It’s not like that!” Chabashira flushed. “Er, it’s not just because of that! We need to trust each other--”

“This has nothing to do with trust,” Shinguji insisted. “What matters here is confirming how Yumeno-san did her escape trick. In fact, Saihara-kun and I--”

“Shut up! Magic is real!” Yumeno interrupted loudly, continuing her protest. She scrunched her eyes shut and covered her ears. “LALALALALALALA MAGIC IS REAL! MAGIC IS REAL! MAGIC IS REAL!”

“Oh, stop it,” Harukawa slammed a fist on her podium, startling everyone into silence. “All of you be quiet.” She glared at Yumeno, voice dripping with irritation. “Yumeno, if you don’t shut up and let the discussion continue, we’ll all stop the trial right here and vote you as the culprit. Got it?”

_YIKES, _Saihara thought, putting a hand over his chest. _Harukawa-san’s so scary… It’s not my business, but she really does seem unsuited for the Child Caregiver title… If I were a baby, I might just cry being around her._

Yumeno clamped her mouth shut and nodded.

Harukawa sighed. 

“As I was saying…” Shinguji narrowed his eyes. “Saihara-kun and I found something rather interesting in Yumeno-san’s lab.”

Saihara nodded. “Right… I went in there to see if there were any spare tanks similar to the one we all broke. Shinguji-kun and I saw a spare tank and staircase just like the ones Yumeno-san used.” 

“And,” Shinguji continued, “they both had a strange hatch on them.”

“T-That’s preposterous!” Chabashira interrupted, furrowing her brows. She grit her teeth, making a fighting stance. “There would’ve been water everywhere in that case! Including on Yumeno-san’s clothes, and she was completely dry when she arrived! That’s proof that it was actual magic--”

“There _was_ water there, though,” Momota interrupted. “On the stairs, ‘member?”

“Not to mention,” Toujo sniffed, “there were plenty of spare uniforms in Yumeno-san’s lab. It’s entirely likely that she changed clothes… As one of the helpers in setting up the magic show, I was aware of this fact, but did not want to disrespect Yumeno-san’s craft, hence my earlier silence.”

Chabashira backed down, biting her lip.

Yumeno grumbled. “Nyeh… It’s okay, Chabashira.” She sighed. “Yeah, there was a hatch. I could crawl through a hatch that led to the staircase where there’d be some excess water, and then there was another door I could escape from.”

“Maybe the stairs were used to hide Hoshi’s body,” Iruma suddenly snapped her fingers. “Right? The Monopads said he drowned-- if he was killed before he was eaten like Shyhara over there said, and the stairs had water in them, he must’ve been there! The stairs were big enough for witch bitch, so they had to be big enough for him!” Iruma cackled, pleased with her deductive skill. “I’m a fuckin’ genius!”

“No, actually,” Toujo replied, matter-of-fact. “Apologies, Iruma-san, but I personally confirmed that the staircase was only big enough for one person of their size. There was water inside, certainly, but it wasn’t enough to both drown Hoshi-kun and hide Yumeno-san.”

Shirogane drummed her fingers on her trial stand. “A-All of this aside… In other words, that-- that um, it means that-- nobody saw what actually happened since the curtain was drawn...”

“Hm?” Angie tilted her head. “No, Tsumugi. Gonta saw what was there, didn’t he? He jumped up onto the tank! Angie had to yell at him to get down!”

“E-Eh?” Gonta blinked, a bit flustered by the spotlight suddenly being on him. 

“Angie-san’s right!” Kiibo said proudly. “I even recorded Gonta-kun’s account.”

“So, Gonta-kun?” Shinguji pressed. “Whatever happened?”

“Are we not using my recording…?” Kiibo looked a bit dejected.

“We can use the recording to make sure he didn’t lie and mix up or change his story after he tells us in person,” Shinguji clarified. He turned to Gonta. “Well?”

Gonta nodded. “Um… It was very sudden, but… Gonta saw all the fish and water and Hoshi-kun fall from the box on top. But there was also another glass panel that came out with them.”

Kiibo then played back the recording.

“There’s no discrepancy, so there was in fact a glass panel,” Saihara muttered, hand over his mouth. _But what was it for?_

“I remember seeing that panel, too!” Chabashira burst out. 

Angie nodded in her spot. “Angie remembers that the piranhas looked reeeeally squished! God suggested that the panel was used to keep Ryouma in the tank without the fishies being able to eat him before they all got in the big tank!”

“That is certainly plausible,” Toujo praised, nodding in agreement.

“So the reason we didn’t see the body is ‘cuz the fish were blockin’ it?” Iruma tilted her head. She tsked. “Damn it…”

“Let’s get one thing outta the way,” Momota puffed up his chest. “Now that we’ve figured all this out… _When_ was he killed?”

“This morning, duuuuhhh!” Ouma shook his fists, pouting childishly. “Sheesh, Momota-chan, you’re dumber than a bag of rocks!”

Momota looked annoyed. “Take that back, you--”

“Nyeh… That’s wrong, Ouma. The girls and I set up this tank yesterday evening, but…” Yumeno looked at her friends warily. “This morning, we were all at the gym, and we didn’t see anyone else come in from anywhere to put the body there…”

“Y-Yeah!” Momota protested. “So take back what you said about me being dumb! It hurts my feelings...”

“Your stupidity hurts my feelings even more, Momota-chan,” Ouma sniffed exaggeratedly. He changed face, now sparkling with joy. “But wow, that’s a relief, Yumeno-chan! Now we know for sure Hoshi-chan was killed _last night!”_

“Ouma--” Momota tried interrupting.

“It’s better to drop it right now, Momota-kun,” Saihara murmured, somewhat amused. “Maybe take it up with him after the trial.”

Momota huffed. “Good thinking, sidekick. Heroes can’t let themselves be bogged down by jerks like him…”

“Yesterday night, hm…” Toujo hummed. “If I recall from what I heard from Shirogane-san, the only people who weren’t at the Insect Meet and Greet at all for any period of time were Iruma-san, Momota-kun, Harukawa-san, and Hoshi-kun himself, as well as myself.”

“Kehehe…” Shinguji narrowed his eyes. “You do realize that places suspicion on you as well, Toujo-san?”

Toujo smiled. “Naturally.” She then clenched her teeth, stern. “But it is my duty both as a maid and to all of you to put my all to finding the true culprit. If that means that I must temporarily be suspected, then so be it. I shall put all of my effort into finding Hoshi-kun’s killer!”

=

_That should be good enough. An act worthy of a star actress..._

_There’s no real evidence left aside from the inner tube and the bit of my glove, but a black cloth can come from anyone. Even the rope and wire were put back into place..._

_I’m almost giddy. As long as they buy this, I’ll be free to escape. I can leave this place…_

_It’s at the cost of everyone’s deaths, but I’ll be free… Free, at last..._

=

“So,” Saihara spoke up. “The people in Gonta-kun’s lab the whole time were myself, Yumeno-san, Chabashira-san, Angie-san, Shirogane-san, Kiibo-kun, and Shinguji-kun. Gonta-kun was there starting from the middle, and Ouma-kun was only there at the beginning and end.” He took a breath. “Gonta-kun is technically clear because he was present for the whole event after the beginning, and Hoshi-kun was killed at nighttime.”

“Not quite,” Kiibo said. “Hoshi-kun could’ve been killed towards the beginning of the Insect Meet and Greet, right?”

“I saw Hoshi-chan while I was stealing everyone’s motive videos, if that’s what you wanna confirm,” Ouma tilted his head, twirling his hair. “It was a little past ten, which means he was definitely alive before nighttime officially started, and it means Saihara-chan’s right about Gonta.” He grinned, sneakily pulling out a thick burlap sack. “Speaking of motive videos, I have ‘em all right here to watch!”

Harukawa froze. “Huh?”

“Why… Why did you steal them, Ouma-kun?” Toujo gripped her trial stand a bit more tightly than usual.

Ouma sighed dramatically, pretending not to hear the questions. “But alas, the trial is timed. Maybe afterwards?”

Saihara raised a brow. _What’s his game…? What was the point in bringing everyone’s attention to motive videos…_

“O-Ouma-kun is clear, too!” Gonta spoke up, suddenly determined. “Gonta carried him back to his room after he passed out at the Insect Meet and Greet! It was after he came back with all the motive videos… Gonta checked on him periodically through the night, and he was always fast asleep! Even in the morning, before the magic show! So… So the killer absolutely cannot be him!”

Ouma blinked, looking somewhat stunned for a split second. Then, he smiled. “See? Gonta and I are both safe.”

“Certainly, I also saw Ouma-kun at night before whatever events Gokuhara-kun is referencing,” Toujo cleared her throat, appearing calm. “He was sneaking around, so I had to chase him for an hour and then lectured him for another hour at night…”

“Ooooooh,” Ouma’s eyes sparkled. “I’m glad you remembered that, Mom! You really put me through the wringer there; your stamina surprised me!”

Toujo twitched. “Please do not call me ‘Mom’. I am a teenage maid.”

“Whatever! You’re waaaaay better than my real mom!” Ouma grinned. He pouted, making an upset, childish look. “Plus, she was a teenager too, so there’s no reason you being a teen means you can’t be a mom!”

“This is irrelevant,” Toujo brushed off the statement, though Saihara was suddenly intrigued. 

_Why would Ouma-kun bring up something personal like that? Is he telling the truth? Is he lying for a reason, or for fun? _Saihara touched his head faintly. _And why… why does it give me a headache…?_

“So it isn’t Toujo-san, Ouma-kun, or Gonta-kun,” Kiibo spoke up, tapping his cheek. 

“Oh, oh! I saw a suspicious figure out there in the dark when I was trying to look around for the motive videos!!” Ouma raised his hand excitedly. “They were wearing sexy lingerie!”

“HUH?!” Everyone in the trial room snapped over to look at Ouma.

“You’re fucking with us, aren’t you,” Shinguji said flatly.

Chabashira cracked her knuckles. “One degenerate beating for wasting our damn time, coming up…”

“Noooo, please, I’m telling the truth!” Ouma giggled. “Ask Gonta!”

Gonta’s face reddened. “G-Gonta saw the person too, but revealing who it was is--!”

“A mystery within a mystery,” Shirogane whispered, stricken. “Don’t tell me! A mystery of fanservice?!”

“...Which one... of the girls was it?” Toujo asked, somewhat uncomfortable. “They’re a plausible suspect…”

“H-Hey! Don’t be sexist! That could’ve been anyone in sexy lingerie!” Momota protested, though he looked equally as embarrassed as anyone else in the room. “Even me!”

Saihara turned beet red. _Ohhhh my god._ _Don’t think of Momota-kun in lingerie. Don’t think of Momota-kun in lingerie. Don’t think of Momota-kun in lingerie. Don’t think of Momota-kun in lingerie. Shuichi, I swear, don’t think of--_

Saihara took a slow, deep breath in, and then a slow, deep breath out. His face was still a bit pink, but it would have to do. “Guys,” he said evenly, willing his imagination to throw away the images it had conjured against his will. “Focus. From what we’ve discussed, it could’ve been either Iruma-san, Momota-kun, or Harukawa-san.”

“Excuse me?” Harukawa suddenly looked fierce. “I was _not _outside wearing some shitty bikini. It had to be one of these two morons.”

“Oh?” Ouma grinned, putting a finger in front of his mouth. “Then where were you actually, Harukawa-chan?”

Harukawa froze, as if led into a trap.

“F-For the record, I was hiding from Gonta in the casino!” Momota blurted. “Behind a broken pachinko machine… I didn’t wanna get kidnapped, so I hid… A-And I wasn’t wearing lingerie while I was--”

“Hold on, Momota-kun,” Saihara interrupted, gaze at Harukawa. “Ouma-kun has a point. Harukawa-san… where were you?”

“...In my room,” Harukawa sniffed. "Gonta did see me, but I glared at him and that seemed to scare him off for the rest of the night."

“Before we get into that,” Kiibo spoke up. “If it wasn’t Harukawa-san or Momota-kun, then we can confirm that it was Iruma-san, right? I even have the recording of her telling me that…”

“Ohhh, so it _was_ Iruma-chan I saw!” Ouma made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. He grinned, looking at her. “Wooooow, are you sure you’re not an exhibitionist? 

Iruma let out a long, high pitched whine. “Kiibo, what the fuck, why’d you tell ‘em?!”

“I didn’t want to waste trial time hiding the fact that you stripped to your underwear to avoid Gonta-kun,” Kiibo sighed. “It’s fine, isn’t it? I thought mainland Japanese people didn’t even have that much of an aversion to nudity…”

“We’re still_ teenagers, _what the fuck! Obviously we’ll be awkward and averse to that shit!” Iruma covered her face, aghast.

“What the heck, Iruma?” Yumeno wrinkled her nose. “That’s so _gross!”_

“W-Why did you do that, Iruma-san?” Gonta whimpered. “It’s ungentlemanly to see a woman in that state of undress… Gonta had to cover his eyes and run...”

“T-That’s what I figured you’d think…” Iruma withered. “Not to mention, my body’s pretty slammin’, so even if you did sneak a peek, I figured it’d be some nice eye candy in between all the bugs…”

“We’re not going down this line of discussion any further,” Ouma said cheerfully, though there was a hint of mild disgust in his voice. “Mooooving on! Iruma-chan became an exhibitionist, and since she couldn’t be sure if or when Gonta would return, she was probably out half the night like that.”

“Y-Yeah,” Iruma coughed. “I didn’t go back to my dorm room for hours…”

“So…” Saihara spoke up. “In that case… It has to be either Harukawa-san or Momota-kun?” 

The mere thought horrified him. _Momota-kun being the culprit… There’s no way, right?_

Momota and Harukawa themselves were spooked. “I-It wasn’t me!” Momota yelped, horrified, though his face looked so absurd that he appeared more comical than scared.

“It wasn’t me either,” Harukawa narrowed her eyes, looking… hurt? 

_Why is Harukawa-san upset?_

“We should think of motives, then,” Angie declared. “And in this case, that means motive videos!”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Chabashira said thoughtfully. “Hoshi did seem to want to see his motive video pretty badly, since he was the only one aside from Ouma--” she shot the other boy a glare-- “who wanted to see his motive video…”

“S-So,” Shirogane spoke up timidly. “Whoever had Hoshi-kun’s motive video killed him, and it’s either Momota-kun or Harukawa-san?”

Toujo nodded. “However, either of them can easily lie about this. In that case, it would be more prudent to think of whose video _Hoshi-kun_ had. If Hoshi-kun were aware that someone else had his motive video, and he had theirs… he’d be able to fairly exchange videos.”

Ouma grinned. “Wow, Mom, right on the dot again! You’re sooooo smart!”

“In that case…” Saihara interrupted, looking at Momota. “I can clear Momota-kun.”

Momota blinked. “Shuichi…?”

“I…” Saihara grimaced. “I’m sorry for not telling you before, but… I had your video, Momota-kun. It… It was a bit painful to watch, and I didn’t want you to have to see what was in it… and I especially didn’t want you to do something like murder in case it really did motivate you to want to escape.”

Momentarily, Momota had looked a bit betrayed-- but after hearing Saihara’s explanation, the tension in his shoulders loosened. “So that’s it, huh…” He grinned. “No prob, Shuichi! I’m grateful ta have a sidekick who looks out for me.”

“Which means…” Shinguji said, looking at Harukawa. “Harukawa-san had his video.”

“N-No, I didn’t,” Harukawa protested. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Nyahahaha, is there anyone who can confirm this?” Angie asked. She brightened up all of a sudden, clasping her hands. “Oh! God tells me there is!” She pointed at Ouma.

Ouma grinned. “Why, right you are, Angie-chan! I have everyone’s motive videos right here. I went through everyone’s rooms and caaaarefully noted who had whose videos.” His grin turned dark, downright cruel. “So stop lying, Harukawa-chan. You did, in fact, have Hoshi-chan’s video before you two exchanged them.”

“Gh--!” Harukawa tsked.

“If that’s true…” Toujo said slowly, “then would you be so kind as to tell us about the meeting you two had?”

Harukawa’s face was stunningly blank. “Yeah… He came over and asked me to exchange videos, saying he had mine and he figured I probably had his. I agreed to the exchange. And that was that.”

=

_Wow, what a bald-faced fucking lie, _Ouma thought, positively revolted._ As expected of a callous assassin…_

But… nobody seemed to realize it was a lie. He was tempted to call it out, but it would detract from the trial. _Not to mention… _Ouma narrowed his eyes. _The real culprit is still perfectly avoiding all suspicion. _

_We’ll need to move past this soon if we want to actually catch Toujo._

=

“Did anyone else see you two?” Shinguji asked calmly. Harukawa froze. Everyone stayed silent. Ouma inspected his nails.

“If nobody else saw you,” Chabashira bit her lip, “then it means that you could be the culprit, Harukawa-san…”

Harukawa stayed quiet.

_This is bad, _Saihara realized. _The killer… can’t be Harukawa-san. There’s too much we haven’t discussed yet! She isn’t speaking up, and if nobody says anything, we’ll be in a deadlock--_

“A-Actually!” Saihara spoke up, chuckling awkwardly. “I remember--” he turned to Momota with a smile, eyes wide in a _‘please take the hint’_ way. “Momota-kun, didn’t you mention to me earlier today that you saw Harukawa-san going into her room and Hoshi-kun leaving after you came back from the casino? You said you were tired, but you definitely saw them.”

Momota’s eyes widened. “Huh…?” he said quietly.

_Please take the hint, _Saihara internally begged. _Please understand that I’m trying to get you to lie--_

“O-Oh!” Momota suddenly seemed to get it. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, that was… A little bit around…”

_NO, don’t specify the time!_ Saihara panicked. _That’ll throw things off if you’re really wrong!_

Momota sighed. “Well. I didn’t have a watch on me the way you do, so I can’t say the time for sure, but… I definitely saw those two.” He grinned. “Normally Shuichi here ‘n I go out to exercise, but since he was at that insect thing and I was hiding in the casino, it was just me. I didn’t realize they’d talked or exchanged motive videos, but looking back on it now, that musta been what they were doin’.” He beamed at Saihara. “Good on ya for managing to remember what I said, sidekick!”

“Y-Yeah,” Saihara looked to the side, hiding his smile with his hand.

=

Ouma’s eye twitched. _These two… _

Quite frankly, part of him felt a little betrayed. All the flirting he did! All the subdued hints he gave during the trial! And now what? Saihara directed some maidenly, proud, happy look just like that at the gross hero-complex purple perm guy? Ridiculous!

_They’re clearly in cahoots. Neither of them saw a damn thing related to that exchange. But if I say now that I was actually there, everyone’ll be suspicious and angry at me, and it’ll waste time… Not to mention, Harukawa will kill me for real, since she’ll realize I heard everything if I was actually there…_

Ouma let out a huff of air, half frustrated and half impressed. _I’ll let the lie slide._

His headache worsened. Ouma sniffed, annoyed that the smell of antiseptic had pursued him even during the trial.

_What the hell… I’m just a little jealous that Momota and Saihara are already this close… Why’s a feeling like that giving me a memory headache…?_

=

“So? The fuck does all this mean?” Iruma furrowed her brows. “Harukawa went back to her room. Momota was hiding at the casino and I was also wandering outside til both of us went back. Hoshi was killed at night, but it wasn’t any of the three of us.”

“The real question, then,” Yumeno sniffled. “When was the body moved?”

“This morning, duh,” Iruma scoffed. “Before you ‘n your little magical girl gang got back to the gym to finish setup. Come on, witch bitch, drop the obvious crap.”

Yumeno stared. “Nyeh… No, Iruma. It had to be last night. I showed up super early to the gym!”

“But everyone has alibis for the night,” Toujo insisted. “It couldn’t possibly have occurred then…”

“I must concur,” Shinguji nodded his head slightly.

“No,” Harukawa said faintly. “I think it was last night.”

“I think Harukawa and Yumeno are right,” Momota said. “There’s no way someone would be able to move the body in broad daylight!”

“Whatever Yumeno-san says, I agree!” Chabashira insisted. “If she was there early, then there’s no way she would’ve missed the killer! I say it has to be last night!”

“I dunno, Chabashira-chan,” Ouma put his arms behind his head, carefree. “This morning seems pretty plausible.”

Gonta bit his lip. “I-If Ouma-kun’s certain, then Gonta agrees with him. Ouma-kun is smart, so he’d probably know better than Gonta…”

Saihara stared into space, deep in thought.

“You guys seem split!” Monokuma interrupted gleefully. “In that case, it’s time for the scrum debate!”

“Scrum! Scrum! Scrum! Scrum!” the Monokubs cheered. Once again, the music played, and their trial stands all shifted. 

**“When was Hoshi Ryouma’s body moved?”** Monokuma asked. “It’s up to you guys to debate! Go!”

“C-Couldn’t the culprit have moved the body right before the morning announcement?” Shirogane asked.

“No, because I was there in the gym even before that,” Yumeno insisted. “I would’ve seen it happen!”

“Is it not possible you simply missed the culprit, Yumeno-san?” Shinguji furrowed his brows.

“Noooope! Angie was there with her!” Angie grinned. “Before Kirumi or Tenko came, and before you or Shuichi came!”

“You guys gotta remember this shit!” Iruma tsked. “Monokuma told us way even before the first trial! The gym rules say you can’t come in at night!” 

“The rules have exceptions you can work around,” Momota rebutted. “Chabashira and I climbed up and found weird marks on the windowsill. If the culprit came in through the window and stayed right on the windowsill instead of moving on the gym floor, they coulda done it!”

“Hmm,” Ouma smiled knowingly. “The piranha tank is pretty far from the gym entrance or even the window, don’tcha think?”

“It’s a lot more reachable from the window than the door!” Chabashira argued. “Depending on the culprit’s height, it’s very likely they could’ve done it through the window and at nighttime!”

“B-But,” Gonta bit his lip, “even the pool rules next to the gym say nobody’s allowed at nighttime!”

“Nobody is allowed to _swim_ at nighttime, and presumably, nobody is allowed on the floor of the pool room,” Kiibo corrected. “If they somehow were able to climb or otherwise get to the window, then it’s thoroughly possible to have moved the body last night! Not to mention, everyone’s testimonies proves that the last time anyone saw Hoshi-kun was last night, not this morning! Especially Harukawa-san’s!”

“But should we even trust Harukawa-san’s testimony to begin with?” Toujo pressed. 

“Yes, because we’ve already proven that Momota-kun saw her and Hoshi-kun,” Saihara replied. “We proved that Harukawa-san went back into her room last night.

“And I didn’t wake up this morning until I heard the body discovery announcement,” Harukawa added. “Momota and Ouma and I ran into each other in the dorm room area as we were running to get to the gym. They can back me up on that.”

“Hmm, that’s a lie!” Ouma grinned.

“No, it’s not!” Momota yelled back. “I remember perfectly damn clearly-- all three of us were there, so Harukawa couldn’t’ve done it this morning!”

“But someone else could have!” Toujo suddenly looked rather irritated. “You cannot dismiss that!”

“If Harukawa-san didn’t, and if Yumeno-san and Angie-san were in the gym early in the morning to begin with,” Saihara fired back, blood roaring in his ears, “then in all likelihood, nobody else moved the body in the morning either! _It had to be at night!”_

The music slowed to a stop, and their trial stands returned to where they were.

“Whew,” Monokuma wiped some sweat off his brow. “So! Did you kids figure it out?”

“It… had to be at nighttime, I suppose,” Shinguji said. 

Iruma grumbled. “But that just gives us the question… How the fuck did the killer avoid touching the floor? For the pool, climbing the walls is one thing, but for the gym, you straight up can’t be in the room.”

“Maybe they used a ladder?” Yumeno suggested.

Kiibo shook his head. “The only ladders around here… are too short to reach that window.”

“Maybe someone flew!” Angie suggested. “With the divine power of God, they levitated…”

“Or they had a jet pack,” Shirogane said dreamily. “Rocket boosters in their legs! Like Astro Boy or something!”

Iruma and Kiibo’s gazes suddenly and briefly met each other’s, looking somewhat panicked. Saihara narrowed his eyes. _Why did they…? _He shook his head._ Probably an unrelated matter. Right now, I have to focus…!_

“The only place they could’ve gotten into that window from is the pool room,” Chabashira said. 

“Right!” Momota snapped his fingers. “There was another window right in line with that gym window on the other side of the pool room!”

Saihara nodded. “Momota-kun, Chabashira-san, and I all went to that room. It was…” he bit his lip, pausing.

“It was Hoshi’s lab,” Chabashira continued for him. She looked to the side, a bit sad. “It was… pretty upsetting.”

“Oh?” Toujo blinked. “Do tell…”

“Ah, Gonta remembers you three standing by the window!” Gonta exclaimed happily. “Ouma-kun and I were telling you all about the things found in the pool!”

“The floating inner tube and the black scrap of cloth,” Saihara nodded. “But about the room we were in…”

“...It wasn’t the normal tennis part of his lab,” Momota sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was like a prison. A separate section of his lab, originally blocked by a locked door…”

Some of the others gasped; a few of them raised their brows. “A prison, you say?” Shinguji narrowed his gaze.

Chabashira nodded. “Saihara noticed first, but… Hoshi’s hands were handcuffed, and those handcuffs had scratches on them.”

“And the sink in the prison area of Hoshi-kun’s lab also had scratches on the edge,” Saihara confirmed. “The scratches… I’m fairly certain that they match.”

“Then the culprit killed Hoshi in the prison area of his lab last night?” Harukawa asked. 

“Ohhh,” Ouma said. “Nishishi… no wonder the Monopad censored his location and time of death! Because it was all suuuper important to the culprit’s trick!”

“Regardless,” Kiibo said, “does that mean that the culprit transported him… window to window? Since the only room connecting his lab to the gym is the pool, and the only connecting location is the windows themselves...”

Saihara nodded. “Yes. There was also rope in Hoshi-kun’s main lab…”

“And tennis cable next to it,” Momota clarified. “I used ta play tennis when I was younger, so I remember…”

“If they used both of those together,” Iruma thought aloud, “it’d be a strong connecting line.”

“But it is, inevitably, just a line,” Toujo insisted, seeming somewhat startled. “Nobody can possibly climb or crawl across a single measly rope with the weight of themselves along with a dead body, much less a handcuffed one.”

“I dunno, Toujo-chan,” Ouma whistled. “Don’t you remember what Gonta here and I found in the pool?”

“The inner tube,” Saihara breathed, before Toujo could say anything.

“The culprit must have set up a ropeway!” Gonta grinned. “Like a zipline… Gonta has used them sometimes in the forest where he used to live. Very easy to tie knots and set up!”

“Nyahaha! We used them on Angie’s island too, sometimes!” Angie grinned.

“S-So… the culprit set up a rope and tennis wires between the windows,” Shirogane summarized. “And then set up a ropeway using the inner tube to transport the body from window to window?”

“That seems plausible,” Shinguji acquiesced.

“But there’s oooone more piece of evidence we’re all leaving behind,” Ouma grinned. “The scrap of black cloth that was also left in the pool.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Toujo asked, seeming distressed.

“Certainly, it seems strange that the culprit would leave it behind,” Kiibo pondered. “The inner tube is one thing, since anyone could’ve used it, but the cloth can narrow it down.”

“That basically confirms that this happened last night, right?” Harukawa sniffed. “If the body was moved in the morning, the culprit could’ve just gone swimming to fish it out, since the pool and gym only ban people at night.”

Saihara nodded. “The reason they left it in the pool is obvious… The pool rules say that the pool is several meters deep starting from the water line, which is already extremely low from our perspective. Even with additional tools, it would be difficult to get out without somehow falling in, therefore breaking the nighttime rules.”

“It’s-- It’s just a scrap, isn’t it?” Toujo insisted, looking more and more frazzled by the second. “It’s irrelevant to the case!”

_No way, _Saihara thought, incredulous. The epiphany was sudden, but it cleared up any remaining doubts he had. _If Toujo-san is this emotional and erratic right now, even after we’ve all come so far in the trial…_

He looked at her outfit, wishing that he could be wrong. But when he reached the article of clothing on her hands, everything became crystal clear.

“The culprit has to be you, Toujo-san,” Saihara said, heart sinking.

Toujo snapped up to look at him. She raised a brow, smiling. “Preposterous, Saihara-kun. It doesn’t have to be me. This trick could’ve been done by anyone.”

_Don’t be scared of the truth. Don’t be afraid of deduction, of your talent._

_You’ll have to fight Toujo-san in order to get her to confess. Even if she’s your friend… Even if she’s helped everyone before...!_

_Honor Kaede’s wish! Reveal reality, and help everyone else survive--!_

“No,” Saihara insisted calmly. “No, Toujo-san, it only could’ve been done by you.” 

“Oh? What’s this?” Ouma twirled his hair. Gonta tilted his head, confused.

“S-Saihara-kun, what do you mean?” Shirogane asked. Kiibo and Chabashira nodded fervently near her.

“Yeah, Shyhara,” Iruma furrowed her brows. “This maid? She’s too prudish to kill someone!”

“You’ll have to prove it to all of us,” Harukawa sniffed.

“I didn’t think it’d be Toujo, Shuichi,” Momota frowned. “You’re a good sidekick ‘n all, but you could be wrong…”

“No,” Saihara insisted again, this time louder. “Remember all of our alibis? You did have an alibi for the meet and greet, but after you scolded Ouma-kun, nobody knows where you were, Toujo-san.”

Toujo grit her teeth. “Oh?”

Saihara continued. “The black cloth found in the pool was pure black. Let’s go through a process of elimination, shall we? I wear bluish black clothes with pinstripes, so it’s not mine. Shirogane-san’s outfit is a similar bluish shade. Ouma-kun wears pure white clothes and a checkered scarf, so it’s not his. Yumeno-san’s hat and jacket are black, but she has an alibi that confirms it wasn’t her at nighttime nor in the morning.”

“Saihara-kun…” Shinguji raised a brow, impressed.

Saihara kept going down the list, undisturbed. “Angie-san, Chabashira-san, and Momota-kun don’t have black cloth anywhere on their outfits. Shinguji-kun and Gonta-kun’s clothes are a dull greenish or brown color. Kiibo-kun is made of metal and doesn’t wear clothes made of cloth. Harukawa-san does have black on her clothes, but they have a checkered pattern on them.”

“Holy crap,” Yumeno mumbled under her breath. 

Saihara took a deep breath. “The only person left here who has black clothes is you, Toujo-san… Your maid outfit aside, I’m talking primarily about your _gloves.”_

“My gloves are perfectly unworn,” Toujo showed her hands. “The scrap couldn’t have come from my gloves…” She giggled demurely. “Apologies, Saihara-kun, but there is no evidence that points to me being Hoshi-kun’s killer.”

“No, the gloves do implicate you,” Saihara raised a brow. “And the scrap could’ve come from the gloves as well. Everyone has spare clothes in their labs and dorm rooms. For you, it also should include your gloves.”

Toujo suddenly looked considerably more upset than before-- angry, even. “It could’ve been Hoshi-kun’s clothes, then, since his body was also transported along with the killer themselves.”

“No,” Saihara shook his head. “Hoshi-kun’s jacket was made of leather, not ordinary cloth like the scrap found.”

“T-Then it could’ve come from his hat!” Toujo clutched her dress tightly, red in the face from rage. 

“But his hat was on during the magic show, when we saw him get eaten,” Saihara said grimly. 

“If the culprit came from his lab, then they clearly had access to his clothes, didn’t they?!” Toujo nearly screamed at him, vice-like grip switching from her dress to her trial stand, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. “His hat has enough black cloth on it that it could be from there! That stupid piece of trash proves nothing!”

“If that’s true, Toujo-san,” Saihara said quietly, “then I suppose you should’ve used Hoshi-kun’s spare clothes in your ropeway plan, instead of letting the rope’s friction wear your own gloves away.”

Toujo heaved heavy breaths, hair mussed up and eyes crazed. “No. It wasn’t me,” she laughed, sounding more and more unhinged with every second. “Your childish little lies don’t prove a damn thing!” she screeched. “Where is the evidence? You have no absolute proof that it was me! You don’t have evidence that implicates me and me alone!”

“The only people who start yelling and shouting about ‘proof’ or ‘concrete evidence’ are guilty, cornered criminals, Toujo-san,” Saihara said sadly, gaze softening. He winced, clutching his head. “I… I know that from experience… as a detective with my uncle...”

“You worked infidelity cases, didn’t you, Saihara-kun?” Shirogane asked, suddenly sounding intrigued by his personal life. “That makes sense… understanding people’s emotions and all is part of your work.”

Saihara ignored her. “Admit to your crime, Toujo-san,” he raised his voice. “The truth is, you knocked Hoshi-kun out somehow, handcuffed him, then drowned him in the sink of his lab. Then you created the ropeway to put his body into the piranha tank in the gym to make it look like it was part of Yumeno-san’s magic show and not your own doing.”

“T-Toujo...” Yumeno’s lip wobbled. “It… It was really you…?”

“I can’t believe it,” Momota’s eyes were wide.

“This can’t be,” Gonta cried out. “Toujo-san…”

“To think that Kirumi killed Ryouma,” Angie said hollowly. “God is certainly cruel, for having the truth be this way…”

“What the fuck,” Iruma growled, slamming a fist on her trial podium. “Shit! Why the fuck would you start up this fucking murder game again?!”

“It wasn’t…” Toujo faltered, trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. “It… no... you’re… ” She scrunched her eyes shut, slowly sinking to the floor, hands holding onto her trial stand as she sobbed. “I did it… I… I killed him… I_ murdered him…!”_

=

_Even now, as long as I keep crying and acting upset, they’ll still feel bad for me._

_Part of me… part of me knew it would end up like this. I am sad, but..._

_As long as they don’t know I was planning to ditch them in cold blood, it’ll be okay--!_

=

“Toujo-san,” Saihara said, eyes widening. 

_This is what you’re bringing your friends to. Tearful confessions. Heartache and pain._

_...What can you do to comfort them in what you know are their last moments alive?_

He pressed his lips firmly into a line. “It’s… It’s okay. It’s over now…”

(The words sounded woefully inadequate even to his own ears.)

The trial room was quiet save for the sound of Toujo’s sobbing. It was a tender, brittle moment, rudely broken by Monokuma.

“I suppose that’s the end of that,” Monokuma quipped. “It’s voting time!” He pressed a bright blue button. “As was the case last time, you have ten seconds to tap on the picture of the culprit! Have fun!”

The voting machines rose up once again, ignorant to the sorrow and travesty around it.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha.... oof


	17. 2-7. Thread of Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toujo falls.
> 
> Ouma chokes.
> 
> Shirogane bleeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS A DOUBLE CHAPTER UPDATE. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE TRIAL (2-6, or chapter 16) GO BACK AND READ THAT FIRST.**
> 
> tw for graphic violence and major character death. if you want to skip the execution, start from "a cruel classic written by Akutagawa Ryuunosuke" to "He was snapped back to reality". POV is the same; it's several paragraph breaks down.
> 
> additional tw for graphic depiction of choking (ouma's, sorta unavoidable?) and a minor tw for small pricks of blood towards the end of the chapter, if that squicks anyone out.

_As if anyone could have fun sending their friends to death, _Saihara thought, bitter and sad as he clicked on Toujo’s picture.

The results were submitted. 

“Wow! Look, Daddy, another unanimous vote!” the Monokubs announced. 

“Congratulations, you all got it right again!” Monokuma cheered. “The killer this time was the one and only Ultimate Maid, Toujo Kirumi!”

The trial stands moved down, including the portraits of Amami, Akamatsu, and Hoshi-- all with bright red, personalized X’s over their faces.

“...Why did you do it, Toujo-san?” Saihara asked at last.

Toujo sniffled, tears leaking from her eyes. She wiped them with her gloves. “I… It was… It was an agreement we had…”

“An agreement?” Harukawa stared.

Toujo nodded. “I had my own motive video… And after trading with you, Harukawa-san, Hoshi-kun had his.”

“Go on, Toujo-san,” Chabashira encouraged.

“Hoshi-kun’s video had nothing in it. It told him that he had nothing to live for, and he wanted someone to kill him-- if not, he said he would’ve killed himself…”

Everyone froze. 

“What the fuck…?” Iruma said, horrified. She whirled around to Monokuma, enraged. “THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HIM FOR?!”

_“Everyone_ has something or someone to live for,” Yumeno knit her brows. “If those bears said otherwise, they must’ve been lying… They’re the ones who are keeping us here.”

_But why target Hoshi-kun with that specifically?_ Saihara wondered. _Sure, he did seem like the more depressive type, but given how I’ve been acting this whole time, wouldn’t I have been a better target? I literally slept for more than 24 hours straight because of how morose I was feeling over Kaede..._

Toujo sniffled again. “Hoshi-kun didn’t believe he had anything left… And then there was my video… it revealed that I was technically the Prime Minister of Japan because of my employer, according to Monokuma.”

“Huh?” Ouma gaped. “Noooo way! _I’m _the only supreme leader around here!”

Toujo blinked the tears away, but more fell regardless. “I didn’t believe it, but at the very least, I got a memory headache from watching my employer talk about me, so there must’ve been some truth to it… My duty as a maid is to my employers. And given the slim chance that I truly am the Prime Minister, then my duty is to the whole country…!”

“And the chaos from the Ultimate Hunt memory in the flashback light made you believe that the outside world was in danger, and that you had to escape no matter what,” Shinguji narrowed his eyes. “Am I correct?”

Toujo bit her lip and nodded. “Fourteen people here, or over one hundred million out there… It’s a terrible choice, but at the time, it was obvious which choice to make. I needed someone to kill. I had to escape. Hoshi-kun didn’t want to live either, so we...”

“You made that kind of covenant,” Angie said solemnly. 

“I won’t say that this isn’t your fault, Toujo-san…” Chabashira spoke up. “...But I get it.” She turned to face everyone else. “All of us here want to escape, right? If you thought you had a chance the way she did, you’d take it.”

“Don’t say that so fast,” Harukawa glared. “Or else we might assume you’ll make a move next.”

Saihara grimaced. It wasn’t a pleasant observation, but Harukawa was right. Anything that anyone said could be used against them, even if they weren’t currently in trial mode. 

“Regardless, I appreciate the sentiment, Chabashira-san.” Toujo smiled sadly. “If only it didn’t have to come to this…” She sniffled, eyes welling with tears again. “I loved serving everyone here… I only wish I could’ve saved you all as well… If I die here, then all of you _and_ all of the people on the outside will…”

She paused.

“In that case…” Gonta spoke up. “Monokuma! Don’t punish Toujo-san!”

“Thank you, Gokuhara-kun,” Toujo wept. “Th--”

“Oh, shut up,” Ouma interrupted, expressionless.

Toujo startled, tears suddenly stopping. “Pardon?”

Gonta hesitated. “Ouma-kun?”

Several of the others suddenly looked annoyed. “What the hell do you want,” Momota hissed at Ouma. “Don’t bother her with your bullshit after everything she’s had to go through--”

“Toujo-chan, if you’d just left Hoshi-chan’s body in the prison area of his lab, instead of involving Yumeno-chan’s magic show by using his corpse as fish food, nobody would’ve found out that you murdered him,” Ouma stared at her. “The ropeway was totally unnecessary. Your glove wouldn’t have been found in the empty pool, and since none of us knew about the prison area of his lab or even had alibis, we’d have no idea who did it. We might not have even _discovered_ the body until days or weeks later. Even if you did insist on using the ropeway, you should’ve just used one of Hoshi-chan’s spare uniforms instead of causing friction to your hands by using your gloves, like Saihara-chan said.” Ouma’s voice was strong and convicted, but his face bore none of that; he was casually inspecting his nails. 

Saihara’s eyes widened. 

Toujo faltered. “I…”

“So not only were you hungry for the attention that would come with carrying out a murder, you also tried to make us feel bad enough for you that one of us might offer to take your place in getting executed, which you nearly manipulated Gonta into doing.” Ouma’s gaze was cold, but his smile was sickeningly sweet. “You might act like the perfect little maid who cares about ‘everyone’ she serves, but you don’t really care about _‘all of us’_ at all, do you?”

Saihara gaped. He hadn’t pieced that together himself, but now that Ouma said it-- he was right. All those times Toujo looked like she’d instantly changed face every time someone walked into her lab or even spoke with her… It made sense now. 

"Not to mention..." Ouma's face was blank again, but his voice was somewhat somber. "The scratches on the sink and his handcuffs... Means that he struggled while you drowned him. And nobody who's totally okay with dying would struggle at the last second."

Toujo stammered. "W-What are you trying to--"

"Hoshi wanted to live," Ouma interrupted. "As depressed as he was, he wanted to live. You can lie and cry all you want to, Toujo, but it doesn't change the fact that you killed him and stole his life for your own selfish purposes."

Toujo looked murderous. “You fucking brat,” she spat irritatedly, erratically clutching her dress. “You’re the most detestable little cretin I’ve ever met in my life--!”

“No need to get so mad, _Mom_,” Ouma joked. He winced, wrinkling his nose as soon as he said it.

“Shut up!” Toujo shrieked. “Shut up, shut the fuck up,_ stop calling me--”_ she was screaming at this point. “How the fuck do you think I feel every day, always_ acting_ like everyone’s damn mother, not even able to be myself or take initiative for the things_ I_ want to do--”

Saihara would never be able to forget those crazed, bloodshot eyes, full of bitter fury and fire and sadness and mourning and--

(What was it called again?)

“Alright, kids!” Monokuma cheered. “IIIIIIIt’s punishment time!”

Everyone stopped. The trial room was silent, save for the sound of Toujo’s heavy breathing. 

“No,” she shook her head, half laughing. “No! I won’t-- I refuse to be--” Her eyes darted across the room, desperately looking for something, _anything,_ until they finally locked on the door.

And she _ran, _screaming the whole way_._

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Saihara’s jaw dropped. Then, before he even realized what he was doing, he cupped his hands around his mouth and started yelling. “RUN! RUN, TOUJO-SAN!”

The others also clamored, yelling and cheering and shouting at Toujo’s escape-- even Ouma, despite his antagonistic speech, was yelling at her to run and get away as fast as she could, much to Saihara’s disbelief.

“Surprising,” Monokuma commented wryly. “I’ll agree, I was also beginning to wonder why nobody else ever tried running away as soon as they got the verdict.” He sighed, then bared his teeth. “Upupu... But unfortunately, the show must go on.”

The screens in front of them began glowing, then displayed the title screen for the execution:

**THREAD OF AGONY **

Ultimate Maid Toujo Kirumi’s Execution: Executed

Saihara’s heart stopped.

The screen changed, now showing Toujo running out the trial room. She hadn’t made it to the courtyard yet, or even the elevator-- she was in a strange hallway, surrounded by Monokuma-esque robots, all holding signs calling for her to resign as a maid. 

_So that’s how it’s gonna end… a mob?_ _No, that doesn’t match what the title card said… _Just as Saihara was thinking that, a prickly vine appeared right in front of Toujo.

_Oh, _Saihara thought, dread rising. _Oh, no._

‘The Spider’s Thread’-- a cruel classic written by Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. Of course.

Despite everything within Saihara wanting to scream at her to not do it, to chance the mob instead, Toujo climbed the vine. Mustering as much strength as she possibly could, she climbed, braving the spines and thorns and the razor sharp saws carving through her clothes and marking her up with blood. She was determined, if nothing else.

And that was precisely what led to her demise.

She reached out for the sunlight, eyes shining at having finally reached an exit, only to see that her goal was nonexistent. 

Saihara couldn’t avoid watching the cruel sight of Toujo as she fell to the ground, screaming with her arm outstretched to the ceiling, crashing into the floor. The Monokubs were chattering up a storm in the trial room about the drawing Toujo had just touched; Saihara’s brain was too addled to even give the bears a second thought.

To Saihara’s horror, the drawing of the sky fluttered down and landed on Toujo’s mangled corpse, soaking up her blood and drenching itself in crimson.

He was snapped back to reality by the noise of Chabashira and Shirogane’s bloodcurdling screams. Saihara looked around the trial room: everyone was staring transfixed at their screens, shocked and horrified by what they’d just seen.

Saihara himself felt sick to his stomach. _This was even more brutal than what Kaede went through,_ he thought. _Is it only gonna get worse from here…?_

Kiibo cried out again. “These headaches… my inner voice is really loud,” he hiccuped. “My head’s… This feels.... excruciating… It _hurts...” _

It hurt everyone, naturally. Whenever someone died, everyone got headaches-- but for some reason, Kiibo’s seemed to strike him differently. Saihara was too numb to think of why. 

Without any other fanfare, it was over.

=

Wordlessly-- save for the noise of sniffling, shuffling feet, and stifled, shuddering sobs-- they all left the trial room and reconvened outside by the statues.

Surprisingly, it was already nighttime. Saihara hadn’t realized that the investigation and trial combined had lasted the entire day, but it had.

His stomach grumbled. _None of us have eaten… After that execution, I don’t think any of us even want to, but… it’s sad that we’ll never have any of Toujo-san’s cooking ever again. _

Perhaps more sad was the fact that above all, it wasn’t Toujo’s personality that stuck in Saihara’s mind, but her service. A testament to her act this whole time… rather than being one of them, a trapped teenager, Toujo had taken on the role of a caretaker, fully embodying her Ultimate talent and nothing else.

It made Saihara sick in retrospect.

“Gonta-kun?” Shirogane asked, wiping the last of her tears. “What are you looking at?”

Saihara turned to see Gonta looking up at the sky in a daze, snapping out of it seconds after Shirogane had asked. 

“Ah, sorry…” Gonta said. He looked at the sky again, face neutral. “It’s just… Gonta usually looks at the stars for comfort. Whenever Gonta feels sad. But…” he screwed up his face. “The stars here are completely different from the ones back home…”

Momota perked up at this, looking at the sky as well. He tilted his head in confusion. “Huh… you’re right. I don’t even see Orion’s Belt… or the Big Dipper.”

Saihara furrowed his brows. _Then are we someplace far away from Japan…?_

“Kehehe…” Shinguji huffed. “How odd… We should be able to see these stars if we’re in the Northern hemisphere.”

Angie hummed. “According to God, all that means is that we’re not in Earth’s Northern hemisphere anymore.”

“What, so someone dumped us in Australia?” Chabashira scrunched up her nose in disgust. “Or like, South America? Or Africa?”

“Whatever, whatever, who cares exactly where on Earth we are!” Ouma tapped his foot impatiently. “I have something suuuper important to tell you guys before we go back to the dorms!”

Everyone turned, albeit with exasperation, to look at Ouma. “Well?” Iruma asked expectantly. “Get on with it.”

“Yeah,” Momota yawned. “I’m exhausted, so hurry up.”

“Okay, yeesh. You could stand to be more patient. It won’t take that long,” Ouma pouted. Before the others could irritatedly tell him to hurry up, he continued. “Everyone seems to be treating me like some sort of compulsive liar…”

“Because you _are_ one,” Kiibo muttered under his breath.

“...But that’s ridiculous! Because there’s a way worse liar here among us!” Ouma said, comically stern. 

Cautious but still interested, Saihara spoke up. “A liar worse than you…?” 

Ouma grinned cruelly. “I’m talking about Harukawa-chan.”

Without thinking, Saihara turned to look at Harukawa. 

“Huh?” Harukawa was sweating all of a sudden. Despite her clearly confused appearance, her voice betrayed nothing of the sort. Rather… Saihara didn’t want to suspect her right off the bat, but her voice sounded almost as if she _knew_ what Ouma was talking about. 

“What do you mean, Harukawa’s a liar?” Momota demanded. 

“She admitted it during the trial, remember?” Ouma smiled. “Hoshi-chan wanted to her to show him his motive video because he wanted a reason to live. But that wasn’t the whole story…” He put a finger to his lips, smug. “He was blackmailing you, wasn’t he, Harukawa-chan?”

A low murmur passed through the group. Saihara narrowed his eyes. “Blackmail? Didn’t Harukawa-san say she agreed to it, and that was that?”

“Yuuuup! Hoshi-chan just so happened to stumble upon Harukawa-chan’s true identity, so he used that to blackmail her when she wasn’t too receptive about exchanging videos,” Ouma looked at his nails banally, as if he was talking about the weather. “Maybe he said something like… _‘If you don’t show me my motive video, I’ll tell everyone who you really are.’” _He paused dramatically. “And that’s why Harukawa-chan didn’t want us to know that the two of them met up, or give more details about their exchange!” He narrowed his eyes, smiling. “She wanted to keep her true identity secret, so she kept quiet until the last second in the trial.”

“Wh-- Why, you…” Momota growled. “What the fuck kinda shit are you making up now? Harukawa’s ‘true identity’? What--”

Ouma giggled, a vicious grin on his face. “I mean… I myself have known Harukawa-chan’s true identity this entire time.”

Even though they were outside, the air around them suddenly felt frigid. Saihara chanced a look at Harukawa again and was met with a murderous glance, aimed at Ouma.

For a brief moment, it appeared as though Harukawa had vanished. She moved so swiftly, it was like she wasn’t even previously standing by the others to begin with. Instantly, she reappeared in front of Ouma, holding him up by the neck in a chokehold that rivaled even Gonta’s strength. Ouma was barely touching the ground with his tiptoes. 

“Motherfucker,” Harukawa snarled. “You were _eavesdropping,_ weren’t you?!”

“Gh!” Even in this situation, Ouma let out a wheezy bout of laughter. “Y-Y’know… th-this is also a pretty interestin-g… t-turn of events…”

_Interesting?! _Saihara thought in alarm. _You’re getting choked--!_

“But…hng...” Ouma strained for air. “Would you r-really... k-kill me right in front of everyone…?”

Everyone was shouting, clamoring for Harukawa to let go of Ouma. Saihara’s mind raced. _What is he doing? What’s happening?_

“H-Hey, Harukawa!” Momota yelled, nervous and confused above all. “What the hell’s goin’ on?!”

Ouma continued. “Y-Yeah, you can… probably snap my neck like a twig… right here… right now, in f-front of the others… b-but that’s not your style…” he gasped, face turning bluer by the second. “Y-You’d rather… kill from the sha-adows....wouldn’t ya…?” he laughed raspily.

And then it clicked. 

Saihara’s eyes widened as he realized the reason why Harukawa didn’t let anyone in her lab. Why she was able to physically block a muscular person like Iruma from entering her lab. Why the Child Caregiver title seemed so ill-suited for her. Why she purposely avoided everyone. Why her words always sounded so harsh and violent. Why she was able to scare away even the likes of Gonta from hanging around her. Why Momota could take one look at her and see that she was strong--

Harukawa growled, squeezing tighter. 

“Right,” Ouma cackled breathlessly, “Miss Ultimate Assassin?”

Suddenly, Harukawa released her hold on Ouma’s neck and shoved him to the ground, leaving him to hack and wheeze and cough for air. 

“Ouma-kun!” Saihara was surprised to see that alongside him were Gonta and Kiibo, rushing up and kneeling by Ouma’s side, helping him up. 

Ouma smacked their hands away and wiped his mouth. “Leave it,” he rasped. There was a glint in his eyes as he jerked his head in a slight upward motion, directing their attention to the cacophony in front of them. The others were all stepping back from Harukawa, who was still emanating an aura of rage.

“H-Harukawa, is this true?” Yumeno stuttered.

Harukawa only averted her gaze. “Mm. I’m not a child caregiver. I’m an assassin.”

What followed next was the most palpable, awkward silence there had ever been among the group. Saihara swallowed the urge to laugh. 

“Okay.” 

Saihara startled, turning to see who’d said that. _Ah_, he thought._ Of course._

Momota stood tall and with his chin up, looking as cool and calm as a cucumber. 

Harukawa blanched. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said,” Momota retorted. _“Okay. _So what. Big deal! You’re an assassin. Just because you have experience killing people doesn’t make you all that different from the rest of us.”

The looks on the others’ faces ranged from _are you a fucking moron_ to _I’m gonna have a stroke._ Momota began to stammer, as if realizing the stupidity of his own statement. “I-- I mean… it’s not like we’re any less suspect of committing murder. You guys saw… Y’all saw what happened to Toujo and Akamatsu. They weren’t assassins.”

Ouma pursed his lips, evidently displeased by the way the conversation was turning. “So? She kills people. She has _murdered human beings before _in cold blood.” It sounded as if he really just didn’t know how else to get the reality of the situation through Momota’s thick skull. 

“Okay, and so have a pianist with dainty little nail-painted hands and a maid who cooks food and cleans up the place better than my grandma,” Momota rolled his eyes. “The point is, as long as we’re stuck in a killing game like this, any of us could become murderers. It’s not fair to be scared of Harukawa just because she can do it too.”

Harukawa sighed, turning around. “This is stupid. All of you just pretend I’m not here, and we’ll all be good.”

“You heard the killer,” Ouma jeered. 

Momota frowned. “...Obviously we’d react this way, given her talent and this general situation... Harukawa hiding it is natural, don’tcha think?”

“Hmph!” Ouma turned his nose to the air. “You’re an idiot if you’re not automatically on your guard after hearing there’s a literal _assassin_ among us, but hey, all the better if _you_ die from your own stupidity instead of me.” Saying so, he made his way back to the dorms too.

“I…” Momota faltered. He shook his head. “I choose to trust her.”

“...Don’t be stupid,” Harukawa said softly, walking to the dorms.

Saihara wasn’t quite sure what to believe... but for now, he supposed he’d trust in Momota and Harukawa as well.

The others dispersed after that, mostly walking back to the dorms.

_Before I go... _Saihara turned to Ouma, gently tapping his shoulder. “Hey, Ouma-kun,” he began. “Can I ask you something?”

Ouma stared at him blankly, a gesture for him to go on.

“If you were really listening in to Harukawa-san and Hoshi-kun’s conversation, why didn’t you say anything about it in the trial?” Saihara asked, furrowing his brows._ And why did you let me and Momota-kun lie about it? _

Ouma grinned, sinister. “Maybe I didn’t want anyone knowing I was there. Maybe I thought Harukawa-chan actually was the killer and wanted her to get caught and executed. Maybe I wasn’t there at all, and I just happened to hit the bullseye on what Hoshi-chan said. Nishishi… Maybe I just got bored, and thought it was funny how Harukawa-chan stayed quiet about it too when it was obvious she should’ve known it was a lie. Who knows?”

_Which statements are lies, and which is the truth?_ Saihara searched Ouma’s face, his voice, his body position and mannerisms-- anything, for an inkling of the truth.

All he found was mystery.

“Figure it out yourself, my beloved Saihara-chan,” Ouma snickered, throwing up a hand in lieu of a proper goodbye, leaving Saihara alone in the courtyard with his racing thoughts. “Sleep tight!”

=

What happened after that wasn’t too important, really. Ouma and Saihara also walked back to the dorms and presumably went to sleep. Boring stuff like that wouldn’t be too good to show on screen.

Once she was positive everyone else was asleep, Shirogane Tsumugi went to her little bookshelf room, and continued her work on sewing a dress. 

In, push, out, pull. In, push, out, pull. Normally Shirogane used machines to do this, but it’d be too loud in the dead of the night. Not to mention, her own lab was locked for the time being. But it was okay! Going old school for a while would be fun. 

_(Ouma-kun was right when he said there was a bigger liar than him in the group,_ she thought, _but he was wrong when he revealed who it was.)_

The methodical movements of the needle were comforting, but the fear of getting pricked was still there, even though she had so much experience making and wearing cosplay. Her mind wandered to how well things were going. Sure, production was a bit hard to get through, and the game had a bit of a rough start, but once the murders had begun, the pace picked up. 

_It’ll be a good season, _she thought idly. _Not to mention, two more of the many threats against me have been eliminated..._

Finally stitching on the last bits of the pattern on the chest, Shirogane held it up, marvelling at the spider design and how precisely it matched Toujo’s own-- a perfect cosplay. 

She thought back to the trial. That look on Toujo’s face… her desperate, screaming face… And even the look on Akamatsu’s face! It was all so despondent, so morose, so…!

Shirogane giggled quietly, grinning to herself and keeping her secrets.

She looked at the clock on the wall. _Close to three._ She’d have to leave and go back to bed if she didn’t want to get caught by the early birds who hated abiding by Monokuma’s announcements.

In her shuffling to put the dress away, Shirogane suddenly felt a sharp prick on her finger.

“Ah!” She let out a small cry, shaking her finger and feeling through the fabric to find the offender. And there it was-- the needle was still sticking out, still attached to the last thread, and had pricked her after all. 

Sucking on her bleeding finger, Shirogane giggled again.

“Thread of Agony, indeed.”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that, the curtain closes on the ultimate maid...
> 
> toujo's execution is the cruelest one in all of danganronpa, imo. especially considering how hoshi wasn't even an unwilling victim like most of the others.
> 
> as for the ouma choking scene... ive always wondered what happened right after? lmao. like were they all just like "lmao k" and walked back to their dorms while maki still held ouma? did they talk? what the hell happened in between where the chapter ended in game and when they went to bed. guaisjflaksjfds so that explains why i wrote in [gestures wildly] all of that
> 
> thursday will be the last chapter in section 2. thank you guys for reading and thank you for your patience with these chapters. i hope you guys enjoy it!


	18. 2-8. A Thin Line Divides Heaven and Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harukawa gets scammed into friendship.
> 
> Ouma realizes something important.
> 
> Saihara gets a taste of Toujo's medicine... in his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not really. a fan of this chapter but!! i know that if i keep nitpicking i'll end up never posting anything, so i'll suck it up right here and now!!!!!
> 
> this does take place over a period of several days-- i'd like to say a week, i guess? maybe a week and a half at most, i'm really not keeping serious track of time in-universe.
> 
> also, to eden: you owe me five BILLION dollars for sappy, stupid saimota content. not a firstborn. not even your beautiful cats. five billion green ones. i know i'm the one putting it in to begin with (because saihara's an idiothead who falls in love with every K person who even remotely has an ounce of confidence, and it's all for the sake of development later anyway) but for the time being, you owe me $$$. alkdhasfkljdashflkas
> 
> even if i'm still skeptical, i hope you guys like this chapter!! here we go!!!!

Breakfast was terrible the next morning.

Not necessarily because Toujo wasn’t there to cook it for them… though the food definitely wasn’t as good as what she usually prepared. More than that, it was because of how tense everyone else was. Even the usually cheerful people like Gonta and Angie weren’t quite themselves that day. The conversation was full of the usual banalities, but it felt… incredibly forced.

(Was that how it was the morning after Kaede died?)

Saihara sat down with his food and chewed quietly. It would’ve been fine if he had just stared straight at his food and finished it quickly, but Saihara just couldn’t force himself to ignore what was going on. His gaze wandered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a spider on the wall. It was climbing up its thread…

Saihara tore himself away from it and focused on the people around him instead.

_Most of them are just awkwardly looking at their plates… Momota-kun in particular looks like he’s trying really hard to stay quiet. He’ll probably speak up and try to lighten the mood… He’s always thinking of others like that. _Saihara’s eyes widened._ Huh, that’s weird… Ouma-kun isn’t here yet._

As if he’d been waiting for Saihara to realize it, Ouma came in just then.

“Goooooooood morning!” he yelled, eyes sparkling. Saihara felt like gagging. _That kind of positivity at a time and place like this is…_

Ouma tilted his head, puzzled. “Huuuh? That’s weird, why are you guys so upset-looking? Is it because Toujo-chan died yesterday?”

_AAAAHHGKLDHFKDSH STOP TALKING,_ Saihara panicked internally, leading him to accidentally bite his tongue mid-chew. _GOD, READ THE ROOM!_

Momota grit his teeth, apparently unable to hold back any longer. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

Ouma hummed. “You guys are the same as ever, huh,” he yanked a chair over and sat down in it backwards, ignoring the obnoxiously loud way it clattered. “Instead of just facing head-on that someone died, you all dance around it and pretend everything’s fine.” He sniffled exaggeratedly. “Y-Yyouou… You hate Toujo-chan and Hoshi-chan and Rantaro and Akamatsu-chan’s memories, don’t you?!”

“Well, sorry, _degenerate,”_ Chabashira snapped. “but dealing with loss is harder than you seem to think it is.”

“Yeah,” Yumeno narrowed her eyes. “It’s not easy to just accept that our friends are-- d-dying.”

“S-She’s right. It’s rude to say things like that, Ouma-kun,” Shirogane insisted.

“They’re right,” Shinguji said calmly, standing off to the side. “The way humans deal with death and loss is different across cultures. You mustn’t judge them for not quickly moving on if that is what you expect.”

“What different cultures?” Iruma scoffed. “All of us are Japanese.” She looked at the kitchen doorway, where Kiibo was coming back from washing his plate, and suddenly coughed. “Er-- most of us...”

“Nyahaha, Angie’s technically only half Japanese,” Angie pointed out. “But she thinks Kokichi has the right idea. Rantaro died. Kaede died. Ryouma died. Kirumi died. We can’t take it back, so we must give it our all going forward. It is God’s will.”

“Don’t let our regrets about their deaths pile up, huh?” Momota let out a sigh. “If that’s what you want us to do, just say so, dumbass. No need to be all antagonistic...”

Ouma stared at them blankly. Then he shrugged, turning the chair around and sitting in it properly, giving a quick note of thanks before piling all the sugary sweet dishes onto his plate.

And that was that. 

_Amazing,_ Saihara raised a brow to himself. _It was mostly Angie-san explaining Ouma-kun’s point of view, but the table’s ambience already feels a lot more different now that he’s shaken things up and gotten everyone to quit being wishy-washy about it._ Saihara got up, ready to take his plate into the kitchen. _As expected of a supreme leader, I guess._

“Ooooh,” Ouma grinned as he swallowed a bite of food. “I just noticed! Looks like little miss _murderer_ isn’t at breakfast today!” 

Saihara nearly dropped his plate. _I take it back, he sucks. _

Of _course _he’d find a way to make a jab at Harukawa. Ever since the reveal that she was an assassin, well… everyone had reason to be suspicious of each other all over again.

Just like that, the tension was back up. 

Saihara washed his own dish-- and felt much better about things that way, when he wasn’t just letting all the housekeeping chores to Toujo-- and prepared to leave.

“Come on, guys! I know we’re upset, but we have to move forward. It’s what the four of them woulda wanted,” Momota insisted, grin plastered on his face. _He must’ve been giving some inspiring speech to them while I was washing my plate,_ Saihara realized.

“Okay, Pollyanna,” Ouma yawned. “You’re the boringest person alive, so I’m gonna go.”

Momota frowned at that, then went back to grinning once Ouma left. “We can’t let a sourpuss like him or a piece of shit like Monokuma get us all worked up, y’know?” He pumped a fist. “We can survive. We can definitely escape this game with everyone here! Toujo and Akamatsu are gonna be the exceptions, not the rules. As long as we believe and trust in each other, we can do anything!”

The others seemed a lot more cheered up by this-- definitely more so than Saihara would’ve thought. 

“He’s right,” Yumeno bounced on her heels. “Right, Chabashira?”

“Call me Tenko!” Chabashira grinned. “Even if it’s coming from a degenerate male… I think Momota has the right idea. Yumeno-san, I’ll protect you!”

“Positivity in bad times is what allows humans to survive,” Shinguji noted. “I suppose we can get swept up in such dramatic airs if it means we will be motivated to escape.”

“I agree, Momota-kun!” Kiibo exclaimed, pleased. “Let’s do our best!”

_He’s a surprisingly good leader,_ Saihara thought. He smiled._ All of us are carrying on Kaede’s will in our own ways._

=

Ouma’s little speeches were one thing, but Momota’s were worse. 

Ouma was perfectly capable of motivating and arming everyone else emotionally, but he kept thinking of everything like 4D chess. One second he was positive, the next he brought everyone back down again, as if trying to gauge who was the most and least affected by his lies. Since he wasn’t completely trying to cheer everyone up, it was okay-- Shirogane supposed.

He’d be getting more and more paranoid soon enough. It was in his backstory… Not to mention, characters like him would be popular. He’d have to be kept alive-- at least through chapters four and five, as long as he didn’t do anything stupid that made it so that he’d be murdered, or have to be executed...

Momota, on the other hand, had that same infectious energy as Akamatsu. A shitty off-brand version of it, but a similar energy nonetheless. His popularity amongst the audience would be rising, probably about the same as Ouma’s. But still, he was dangerous...

_They shouldn’t be thinking positive this quickly. _Shirogane narrowed her eyes._ And it’s all because of Momota..._

She bit her lip, standing in the corner of the like the shrinking violet she was meant to play. At last, an idea came to mind-- something that would curb Momota’s optimism, but not kill him until the time was just right. 

And knowing him… he wouldn’t say a single word about it.

Shirogane left the cafeteria, almost in the mood to skip with glee. She wouldn’t do it tonight, that was too soon-- but in a few days from now, just so that it didn’t look like she’d immediately smited him for daring to try and be brave. 

After that, it all depended on her the rest of her colorful cast of characters.

Shirogane grinned, all teeth._ This’ll be fun._

=

Gonta sighed for the nth time, hand holding up his cheek as he sat in the courtyard. “Where could all the bugs be hiding…?”

_In hell, where they deserve to be._ Ouma fiddled with a piece of grass. “Hmm, maybe they’re in bug heaven! Or maybe they’re home, and they’re all waiting for you to get outta here and come discover them, Gonta!”

Gonta’s frown instantly transformed into a joyous smile. “That must be it, Ouma-kun! You’re definitely right!”

_Is he really a yes-man trying to manipulate me, or is he just too childish to get that I’m always lying to him…? Either way, it’s kinda fun…_

“Gonta thinks it’s weird, though!” Gonta exclaimed. “Because he always thinks he sees bugs, and Gonta’s vision is extremely good! But whenever he looks again, they’re gone!”

“Huuuh… Why do you wear glasses, then?” Ouma raised a brow, then leaned in to take them off, examining the lenses. _Whoa, his face looks weird without them._

“G-Give them back, Ouma-kun!” Gonta stuttered, managing to snatch them back and put them on again before Ouma could tease him with them. Gonta coughed, then beamed. “Hehe… They look gentlemanly and refined.”

Ouma nearly burst into laughter right then and there. _Who’s giving this guy his fashion advice?_

“Back to what Gonta was saying!” Gonta turned the conversation back to bugs. “Gonta is absolutely sure he saw bugs here, but they always disappear!”

“Maybe if you ask Monokuma or the Monokubs, they can tell you where the bugs are!” Ouma grinned. “Y’know, they always know where all of _us_ are when they give announcements on the monitors!”

Gonta gaped. Then, he flapped his hands excitedly. “You’re so smart, Ouma-kun! That’s a wonderful idea! Gonta will try it!”

_Hm… I always have been wondering why there aren’t any actual video cameras around here, if we’re clearly being monitored by the bears… And then there’s this guy with his microscopic bugs._

Ouma’s eyes widened, thoughts screeching to a halt.

_Bugs… bugged?_

=

That night, Saihara took off his gakuran again, preparing to go do exercise with Momota._ We didn’t do it the night of the trial or the night of the meet and greet, but knowing him, he’ll want to start up again ASAP…_

As he’d expected, the doorbell rang an obscene number of times. Saihara opened the door and was met with Momota’s overbearing grin. “Sup, Shuichi!”

“You’re going to break my doorbell by next week if you keep ringing it like that,” Saihara raised a brow in amusement. 

“Whatever,” Momota waved away the thought. “More importantly, I’m bringing along someone to exercise with us today. We’re making it a threesome!”

Saihara willed the blush away from his face. _Don’t phrase it like that, you’ll give me a heart attack._

“Anyway, just go outside,” Momota ordered. “It might take a while, but I’ll definitely bring ‘em with me!”

So Saihara went outside and waited, fiddling around with the grass as he waited. He looked at his watch. _It’s been a long time… Is Momota-kun okay?_

“WE’RE HERE!” Momota yelled excitedly..

“Shut _up,_ oh my god. You don’t have to shout.”

Saihara turned to look and was startled by who he saw. “Harukawa-san?”

Harukawa sighed. “He kept knocking on my door and begging me to come out and exercise with you two. I kept saying no, but…”

Saihara looked at Momota almost disapprovingly. “Momota-kun, it’s bad to disturb others like that…”

“Aw, it’s alright!” Momota pouted. “She agreed eventually!”

“Because you promised to not talk to me ever again and to give me strawberry cake every day for a week if I went with you just this once,” Harukawa rolled her eyes.

Saihara bit his lip. _That’s the most desperate ploy I’ve ever heard._

“W-Well--” Momota stammered, apparently embarrassed. “Whatever!” Then, he grinned, puffing up his chest. “You’ve been pretty lonely ever since people found out your real talent, and I, the Luminary of the Stars, refuse to let any person here be isolated! So I invited you!”

“You’re fine with leaving Ouma-kun alone, though,” Saihara pointed out.

“I said any _person,”_ Momota waved away his concerns. “A lying, whining, pickpocketing gargoyle like him doesn’t count.”

Harukawa snorted. “At least we agree on that.” She frowned. “So. What is this stupid exercise thing you want me to do? I wanna go sleep soon.”

“A hundred pushups,” Saihara replied, already feeling tired just thinking about it. “I tend to be slow, so…”

“Oh, just a hundred?” Harukawa seemed genuinely surprised. She rolled up her sleeves, getting into pushup stance. “Kay.”

“Hold it!” Momota held out a hand. He grinned. “Compete with me, Harumaki.”

Harukawa glared at him. “What did you just call me?”

“Harumaki!” Momota beamed, like a rabbit unaware of a lion about to maul it. “Y’know, like “haru” from Harukawa and “maki” from Maki, plus the double meaning of harumaki being a type of sushi roll--”

“I heard that,” Harukawa interrupted. “I mean, why did you just _call _me that?”

Momota shrugged. “It’s a nickname. Nicknames foster team bonding. I call Shuichi by his first name, too!”

“Don’t nickname me after snack foods,” Harukawa tsked. “And compete with you? Don’t be stupid. I’ll be done before you can even get to fifty.”

“Bold words,” Momota let out a low whistle. He grinned again, a sudden fire in his eyes. “I like the challenge! I’ll take you up on it!”

So the three of them got down to do pushups.

“Three…” Saihara grunted. “F-Four…”

“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight…” Harukawa breathed with ease, stance perfect.

Saihara choked on his own breath._ What the fuck?!_

“Forty-nine, fifty, _fuck--”_ Momota glanced over at Harukawa every now and then, gritting his teeth and trying to go faster.

“You’ll exhaust yourself,” Harukawa smirked, smugly standing up and wiping the grass and dirt off her hands. She sighed, frowning again. “There, I did the pushups. Are we done now? I’m not doing this shit again.”

Momota panted but continued doing the pushups, now in the seventies. “Shuichi said the same thing on his first day, and look where he is now!”

Harukawa glanced at him, looking him up and down and clearly judging him for only being at seven pushups. “Saihara’s a pushover.”

Irritation and sweat beaded on Saihara’s forehead. _Well gee, thanks!_

Momota finally finished, immediately standing up and airing out his armpits. “See, that was fun! Harumaki, you should join us again! Stress relief from trials and stuff aside, it’s training to beat Monokuma eventually!”

Harukawa wrinkled her nose. “Gross. No way.” She sighed again, turning around. “I meant it when I said everyone should just avoid me. Being friends with an assassin… isn’t something any of you should want.”

Saihara collapsed after fifteen, panting heavily.

“Big improvement from six and a half!” Momota clapped. “Tomorrow you’ll be able to double it, no sweat!”

“Yes sweat,” Saihara coughed. “I’ve never been this sweaty in my entire life--”

“You two can have fun being dumb,” Harukawa sniffed, walking back to the dorms. “I expect a full return on the cake and on not being talked to.”

Saihara and Momota looked at each other, then at Harukawa’s receding figure.

_Knowing Momota-kun…_ “You have no intention of letting her be alone even after you promised to, are you,” Saihara said knowingly, a small smile on his face.

Momota gave him a shit-eating grin in return. “You know me too well, sidekick.”

=

_Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong. _

“Haaaaruuuuumaaaakiiiiiii!” 

Harukawa put her pillow over her head and ears and growled, thinking of murder. _Goddammit, I should’ve known this loudmouthed motherfucker had no intention to leave me alone._

Saihara had apologized to her on Momota’s behalf at breakfast, and at the time, she didn’t get it, but now, Harukawa was determined to slap them both.

The entire day, Momota had followed her about like a puppy, grinning and trying to start chitchat. He’d given her the cake as promised, and it was definitely good, but he refused to stay silent.

Harukawa had escaped to the girl’s bathroom. Momota waited in the gym next door, since “stalking girls right outside the bathroom isn’t manly”. She escaped to Iruma’s lab. He waited a few feet outside, claiming that he wasn’t a voyeur and to let him know if Kiibo was inside with Iruma or not (what the fuck did that mean?). Iruma was too annoying, so Harukawa eventually left.

Gonta’s lab was a hard no; Harukawa hated bugs. The labs of the deceased… were also off-limits, just on principle. Yumeno’s lab was also a no because Yumeno and Chabashira and Angie always flirted in there (ohh, maybe that’s what Momota meant?).

She eventually escaped to her lab, and even threatened him with a glock, but she could see from her video surveillance feeds that he’d just smiled like a damn lunatic the whole time. 

The doorbell rang again.

Harukawa spitefully threw her pillow at the door, then walked over towards it. “The fuck do you want,” she grumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Exercise with us again tonight!” Momota beamed. “It has positive physical health effects and you can make friendships, which helps mental health in stressful conditions like these!”

“Just sell me a protein shake instead and leave me alone,” Harukawa rolled her eyes, beyond annoyed. “What part of ‘ignore me’ do you not get?”

Momota paused, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Harukawa hesitated. “What? Momota?”

“It’s _because _you said to ignore you, y’know?” his voice came from behind the door, a lot more thoughtful than she’d ever heard it. “Normally, people say stuff like ‘oh, I’m okay being alone’, and that’s fine, but… People who ask to be ignored only ever do that because they don’t want to hurt other people.” Harukawa could physically hear him smiling on the other side. “That tells me you’re a good person, for one, but also… it tells me that you don’t technically want to be alone, even if you say that.”

Harukawa didn’t have a response for that.

“So! Join us!” Momota yelled enthusiastically.

Harukawa returned to her senses. “Fuck no.”

Momota sounded absolutely dismayed. “Nooooooo! Harumaki, pleeeease? Please please please please please please--”

Harukawa opened the door. “You are worse than a child. What the fuck. How old _are_ you?”

Momota looked surprised, but then he beamed. “Fifteen, I think?” He winced. “Maybe sixteen, I’unno…”

Harukawa sighed, ignoring her own slight headache. “Just once. This is the last time I’m doing this. You can compete with me or do whatever the hell, but I’m gonna beat you, and I’m gonna go to sleep right after.”

Momota pumped a fist. “Good! Let’s go, then. I look forward to the ass-kicking!”

“Ew,” Harukawa blanched, disgusted as she walked beside him. “Are you a masochist?”

Momota waved a hand. “Nah, I just like the spirit of competition. The real masochist is Kiibo.”

Harukawa frowned, remembering all the weird stuff she’d heard in Iruma’s lab. “I thought it was Iruma?”

“It’s both of them,” Saihara yawned behind them, letting the door to the dorm area close as he walked out to the courtyard. Momota startled; Harukawa snorted. _He was there the whole time, but I guess an ordinary guy like Momota wouldn’t have been trained to know that._

“S-Shuichi, when did you--” Momota shook his head. “Whatever, glad you’re here! You were saying?”

Saihara sighed, looking even more tired than he usually did. “Believe me, it’s both of them. I was looking for Ouma-kun earlier today since I hadn’t seen him since the trial. I thought Gonta-kun would be good to ask, but I couldn’t find him either, so when I saw Kiibo-kun, I decided to ask him instead. I tapped on his shoulder to get his attention, but Iruma-san interrupted the conversation to drag him to her lab…” 

“Okay?” Momota tilted his head.

Saihara looked like someone had given him a lemon to bite on. “She insisted that he get a new paint job because of my ‘shitty beta boytoy virgin finger oils messing up the metal’ and then whimpered when I got pissed off. Kiibo-kun was already red in the face, but by the time I left they were both blushing. I couldn’t even handle looking at them...”

Harukawa nearly choked on her own spit. _Oh my god, that’s hilarious._

Momota tsked, settling down on the courtyard grass. “Falling in love or having that kinda relationship or whatever at a time like this… man…”

Harukawa sniffed, kneeling next to Momota. “What a weird duo,” she agreed.

Saihara sighed as he sat down next to them. “I imagine Shinguji-kun would probably have a field day analyzing their mating rituals. He could pioneer studies on the culture of robot-human romance or something...”

The three of them burst into childish giggles. 

‘D-Don’t tell any of those three I said that,” Saihara wheezed, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Kiibo-kun would call me a robophobe forever, Shinguji-kun would tear out my nerves, and Iruma-san would flex and tear me limb for limb if she found out--”

“Nah, bro, she’d prolly thank you for it,” Momota snickered. “If she actually is the way you said…”

It was then that Harukawa was startled out of her giggles. _Wait, no. Don’t laugh with them. You’re not here to make friends._

Momota stretched. “Anyway, onto exercise! Got it, Harumaki? You’re one of my sidekicks now! Let’s go, one hundred pushups as always!”

“I’m only doing this today,” Harukawa reminded him coldly, getting into pushup stance. “And I’m _not_ your sidekick.”

_You can’t get close to these people._

And just like the day before, Harukawa beat the two of them in a landslide and left.

=

Saihara’s head hurt looking at Momota and Harukawa, but he couldn’t figure out why. 

“She’s stubborn, but I’mma keep at it,” Momota smiled. “I’m the leader, after all! I gotta make sure both my sidekicks are getting along.”

_...I can think of that later. _“You’re still gonna stay persistent, I’m assuming?” Saihara asked, amused. 

Momota nodded, grinning in determination. “The Luminary of the Stars leaves nobody behind.” He winked. “And if that means I gotta adopt introverts like you ‘n Harumaki, Shuichi, then so be it.”

_He’s so cool, _Saihara thought, somewhat dazed as Momota walked back to the dorms. _Always brave and confident and persistent and kind and hardworking and…_

_And ninety centimeters, according to the Monopads,_ a voice in his brain reminded him smugly. 

_Shut up,_ Saihara thought back, feeling more flustered by the second. 

Still…_ did_ he feel something for Momota?

Confused, and a bit red in the face, Saihara went to bed.

=

Harukawa decided on the third day to give up trying to avoid Momota entirely. 

_Making friends… I didn’t want to, but if it’s just those two idiots, I’ll be fine… right?_

After what he’d said, plus his ridiculously high persistence… Well. Harukawa didn’t think there was much need to avoid him or Saihara anymore.

_They’re not threats… And even if they do turn out to be, I’m skilled enough that I can get rid of them._

_I’ll join them again tonight for their little training session, _Harukawa thought._ Just to humor him, obviously..._

=

For a few nights after that, the three of them continued training.

Ouma was locked up in his room drafting up blueprints of strange gadgets-- Gonta would come over with food, and would sit outside his dorm room to chitchat for a few minutes. Every time, he’d talk a bit and then Ouma would interrupt with a sarcastic yet amused _“Gonta, are you my husband?”, _which embarrassed the other gentleman enough that Gonta would always leave to be with his bugs.

Iruma and Kiibo were in Iruma’s lab, getting closer._ Good to show that sort of romance to the cameras,_ Shirogane thought. _As long as they don’t eventually get frisky… Well, not like robots really can._

Angie, Yumeno, and Chabashira were still rather upset about Toujo, for good reason.

Meanwhile, Shinguji was looking for Saihara, clearly wanting to talk, but Saihara was always looking for Ouma.

Harukawa was coming out of her shell and becoming closer to Saihara and Momota, joining in on their little nightly training sessions thanks to Momota’s positivity. Saihara was improving his pushups. Even Momota was perfectly healthy…

Key word, _“was”._

Shirogane’s glasses gleamed.

“Let’s get you sick, shall we?”

=

That night, Saihara contemplated his feelings as the three of them got together again for training.

_I enjoy Momota-kun’s company. I enjoy his personality. He’s kind-hearted, and is always thinking of his friends and trying to help us by leading us. He doesn’t look bad either. He gives me headaches. Sometimes I blush around him, but friends do that, right? I did the same around Kaede..._

Saihara had noticed the way Harukawa looked at Momota, too-- clearly annoyed but also seeming to have softened up a bit, smiling instead of scowling whenever Momota cried out in defeat.

The night after that was different, though.

“H-Hey, guys!” Momota smiled, but it wasn’t in his eyes. “Listen, I’m gonna stay out with y’all, but I’ll save the pushups for later, kay? My head’s kinda hurting today…”

Harukawa frowned, and Saihara almost would’ve called the emotion on her face disappointment. “What, you’re not doing it?” She shook her head. “Whatever. Feel better soon.”

Saihara also wished him well before doing the pushups. _He’s feeling bad today… That’s too bad._

But when Momota used the same excuse for two more days after that, Saihara finally decided something was really off. That afternoon, he walked in the courtyard, trying to get his thoughts in order.

_My own feelings aside… It’s weird that Momota-kun’s avoiding this. And today, he even avoided the two of us, saying he had work to do… I like him and all, but I’m worried about him. I wish he’d tell me what’s going on…_

Saihara wandered, feeling more and more lost with every step.

_And then there’s Ouma-kun, who’s literally gone AWOL…_

=

_Oh…? Saihara’s walking alone in the courtyard. He looks off..._

Ouma continued walking, deciding to look casual as he approached the other boy. _Ah, it’s probably because of Momota… He was in the library earlier, weirdly enough. For ages, I’ve been the only one who goes there anymore, but there he was, frantically flipping through medical books like his life depended on it…_

_I wonder what’s up with him._

“Hey, hey, Saihara-chan,” Ouma grinned.

Saihara was stunned. “Ouma-kun?” Suddenly, he looked annoyed. “I’ve been looking for you _everywhere _these past few days_, _where the heck have you been--”

Ouma held up a hand, pretending to think very hard. “Before you question me, Saihara-chan, I have a question for you.” He grinned cruelly. “If I killed Momota-chan, would that make you stop looking like a kicked puppy?”

“WH--” Saihara looked incredulous. “Of course not, don’t kill--”

_Bingo. _Ouma giggled. “Nishishi…”

“...That was a lie, wasn’t it,” Saihara looked at him flatly.

Ouma beamed. “You know me so well, my beloved! You’re right, I was lying! I won’t kill Momota-chan, I’m gonna kill _you_ instead!”

Saihara blinked. “Huh? Ah… Are you serious?”

_Distracting him’s probably the best way to make him feel less shitty. I guess. Still, it’s pretty weird how he’s not even phased by the idea of dying… Unless he just can’t tell if I’m lying as usual. _

Ouma sparkled. “Weeeeell, do it already! Get on the ground and beg like a dog!” _Ooh, I got an idea._ “Ooooh, I wanna see you slit your stomach too, like in all those samurai and mafia movies! C'mon! Do it, pwetty pweeeease!?”

“O-Ouma-kun, I’d die if I did that!” Saihara insisted, taking a step back.

“Psh,” Ouma looked at his nails, bored. “Guess I couldn’t trick you after all. Boring…” He grinned. “Okay, then! Instead, let’s play Russian Roulette, but with a bullet in every chamber!”

Saihara looked tired. “Ouma-kun, I’d still die.”

“Not if the revolver jammed,” Ouma posited. _It could happen, right?_

Saihara stared, somewhat amused. “...Revolvers don’t jam. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

_Damn, guess not. _“Aw, you knew that already!”

Saihara sighed. “Look, I’m not playing Russian Roulette.” He looked at Ouma, an interesting gleam in his eye. “Why don’t you just admit… that killing me was a joke?”

Ouma stared at him blankly. “I hate lies and jokes.”

The sour look on Saihara’s face was beautiful. Ouma could practically see the irritation and sarcasm oozing from it, could practically hear the _“From you, of all people? You’re screwing with me, right?”_ that Saihara clearly wanted to say but definitely would not, just on principle.

Silence. Finally, Saihara sighed. “You’re impossible.”

(But there were definitely traces of a smile cracking his lips.)

_Mission successful._

“Well then! I have to go tell Iruma-chan what a terrible sex-crazed robot-fucking pig she is, so bye-bye!” Ouma waved enthusiastically. 

Saihara did a double take. “H-Huh?! What the-- wait a minute--” he winced, clutching his head.

Without waiting, Ouma left.

(And it was only after he arrived at Iruma’s lab that he realized he had no clue why Saihara had been looking for him that whole time.)

=

Saihara actually rather wanted Ouma to stay. As troublesome as his lies could be… It was kinda fun, deciphering them.

The whole exchange gave him a headache. He let out a low whine, clutching his head again as he sank to his knees.

_ **I challenge you** _

** _use your head_ **

** _maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not_ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

And he fell back to the real world, panting.

_What does this mean, _he wondered. A challenge… using his head. And whether he was right or wrong wasn’t for certain? Clearly this memory had to do with Ouma… It was right there at the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t entirely sure. At the very least, Ouma was the one who caused it, right? Ouma always seemed to be behind Saihara’s stronger headaches. The only time a headache was as strong if not stronger was if someone’s body was discovered, or if they were being executed.

At any rate, even if Saihara enjoyed Ouma’s puzzles... if Ouma left on his own, then there wasn’t a lot Saihara could do to ask him what was on his mind.

_Still… ‘kicked puppy’, huh? I didn’t think I let my emotions show on my face that easily… I guess lying about absurd things is his way of trying to distract me, or cheer me up, since he noticed that. How nice of him. I think?_

He’d wanted to ask Ouma primarily about the trial, and about some other things relating to his lies… but the other boy always took him for a loop. Spinning Saihara around and then leaving him there, dizzy and completely forgetting what he was even there to do in the first place.

Just then, he saw Momota walking towards the dorms.

_Right! _Saihara suddenly remembered. _Momota-kun._ He waved at the other boy. “Momota-kun!”

Momota looked up, eyes widening at the sight of Saihara. “H-Hey, Shuichi!” He grimaced awkwardly “Nice to see ya. I got stuff to do, so I’ll talk later, kay?”

And then he ran off.

“A-Ah, wait--!” Saihara frowned, bringing his hand back down. 

_That’s weird. Why is he avoiding me?_

=

“Iruma-chaaaan,” Ouma called out, knocking on the door of her lab. “You in there?”

Last time, he’d barged in without knocking and stumbled upon Irumaand Kiibo talking-- or more like, flirting-- while Iruma did minor adjustments to him. It was simultaneously disgusting and riveting, and Ouma decided then and there that voyeurism just wasn’t for him.

Ouma grinned. “Hey, hey, at least tell me if Kiiboy’s in there so I know whether I should go throw up first or not.”

Iruma opened the door, grime on her scowling face. “The fuck do you want, pipsqueak?”

Ouma beamed, immediately placing his foot in the doorway in case she tried to slam it shut in his face. “A favor, if you will!” He looked left and right, then narrowed his eyes. “I have an idea for inventions that I’d like you to make,” he said quietly._ If my hunch is right, then…_

Iruma tsked. “I don’t do commissions, fuckwad. Try another bitch.”

“I made blueprints?” Ouma tried. He fished the folded pieces of paper out of his pockets. “Been working on ‘em for a few days. Just guidelines, I guess…”

“Knowing all’a you scatterbrains, they’re probably shitty scribbles,” Iruma sneered, snatching them from his hands and unfolding them. She turned the papers right side up to read them properly, squinting as she shuffled them around. “Electrobomb™, Electrohammer™… and Bug-Vac™…? The fuck did you trademark these for?”

“Can you make them?” Ouma pressed.

Iruma scoffed, offended. “Of fuckin’ course I can, I’m a girl genius!”

_Thank fuck. I figured someone as dumb and sex-obsessed as her wouldn’t be the mastermind, but you never know…_

“But,” Iruma held up a finger, “It’ll take me a bit. Just to interpret this shit, then to do other calculations, then to actually get the materials from the warehouse to make ‘em…”

Ouma blinked. “I did them.”

Iruma froze. “Huh?”

“They’re written off to the side on each paper with the sketches, but I did them,” Ouma pointed them out. “Here.”

Iruma stared, utterly uncomprehending. “The fuck… how does a five-year-old infant like you know how to do the complex physics necessary for this shit…?”

_This bitch and Kiiboy both… Birds of a fucking feather. _Ouma hid his grit teeth with a grin. “I’m fifteen, Iruma-chan. Fuck off.”

Iruma snickered. “Aww, is the poor widdle virgin baby annoyed by-- OW, THE FUCK--”

Ouma had kicked her in the shin. He smiled serenely. “I don’t wanna hear that from a masochistic dickhead like you, Iruma-chan. As fast as you can and whenever you can, make at least three Electrobombs, three Electrohammers, and just one Bug-Vac. Got it?”

Iruma whimpered, then let out a shaky sigh. “F-Fine… I was just teasing, I was gonna do it anyway…”

_Gross! But thanks! _“Cool!” Ouma beamed. 

“I’ll let ya know when to pick it up,” Iruma waved. “Don’t fucking come back til I say so!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Ouma laughed, already running back to the main building.

_Disgusting. She’s helpful, but I need to go do something smart if I wanna recover all the brain cells I lost just by talking to her…_

=

Momota didn’t even show up to training that night.

“He keeps avoiding me,” Harukawa complained, sitting on the grass after doing her pushups. She twisted her hair, upset. Saihara was quiet, but he was a good listener, so she figured it would be okay to spill out her irritation. “After all that time he spent following me around, now he gets all jittery when I try following him to figure out what the hell’s going on…”

Saihara collapsed after about twenty-eight, which was much better than he’d been doing only a few days ago. “I don’t get it either,” he sighed. “Momota-kun insists everything is fine, but… he still feels off.”

Harukawa nodded. She sighed, getting up and beginning to walk back to the dorms. “He’ll probably tell us sooner or later. Might as well just go to bed.”

There wasn’t much point in pretending she was doing this out of genuine, pure care rather than her own curiosity. Acting… was necessary for assassins who had to get closer to their victims, but Harukawa wasn’t much of a fan of it.

_Just trust the idiot and he’ll tell you both eventually,_ Harukawa thought. She turned around, raising a brow at Saihara, who was still pondering on the grass. “Saihara, you coming?”

=

“A-Ah, no,” Saihara shook his head. “I’ll be back later. I have something to do, so… Go back before me, Harukawa-san.”

Harukawa stared at him, then nodded curtly, walking back.

Saihara cared about Momota. This wasn’t…. this wasn’t just curiosity. He _cared._ Maybe he even liked Momota; he wasn’t sure. The main thing was, Momota wasn’t talking to him or Harukawa, and Saihara wanted to know what was up.

_Momota-kun is always persistent with me and Harukawa-san, but now that he’s refusing to let us know what’s wrong… I have to find out and return the favor to him. It’ll also help me figure out my own feelings…_

_There was one place… One place that told me details about a person without me having to talk to them in person. It’ll work differently, since Momota-kun is still alive, but…_

Once he was sure Harukawa was back in the dorms, Saihara walked to that familiar building again, standing right outside its welcoming doors.

WELCOME, [[SHUICHI SAIHARA]].

PICK A LOVER.

He saw the faces of those who had died on the screen. Akamatsu’s face wasn’t lit up-- clearly because he had already visited her scenario. However, Amami, Hoshi, and Toujo’s faces were lit up just like all the others.

Amami, whose head was bashed in.

Hoshi, whose body was torn to shreds in front of his very eyes.

Toujo, who suffered as she climbed and climbed, only to fall…

All of them were dead, but their scenarios were completely open. Saihara shook his head. _Right now, I want to focus on my feelings, and on the truth that he’s hiding from me..._

He clicked on Momota’s face and waited as the screen went away and the buffering symbol appeared on the door. 

=

At last, when he opened the door and entered, the room changed.

They were lying down in a patch of grass-- a large, empty field-- and it was nighttime. There were thousands of stars in the sky, an awe-inspiring sight.

_This sort of view is impossible to see in Tokyo,_ Saihara thought, amazed. _It’s beautiful…_

Momota was lying down beside him, looking at the stars. Saihara tilted his head ever so slightly to look at the way the moonlight carved Momota’s face.

The silence of the moment was broken by Momota letting out a snort. “Stargazing before our last race… What an idea. You’re a sap, y’know that?”

_‘Last race’? What?_

“H-Hey!” Saihara protested, desperately trying to will the blush off his face. “You’re… You’re just as much of one if you agreed to it…”

“It’s the last race before I go out into space,” Momota shrugged. “We’re tied and everything… Since it’s our last tiebreaker, I figured I might as well indulge you.” He grinned. “Tomorrow, once we’re done with this, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Momota declared.

Saihara stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. Momota rolled over to his side, facing him with a somewhat annoyed look on his face.

“What, you’re not gonna challenge me back?” he raised a brow, unimpressed.

_HE’S CLOSE--_ Saihara subconsciously inched back a bit. “I-- I just--” 

“Forget it,” Momota sighed. “Challenges are good ‘n all, but I guess now just ain’t the time to you…” He rolled back to where he was, looking at the stars. His expression softened. Slowly, he reached his hand up, as if pressing his palm against the universe. 

“Momota-kun...?” Saihara turned to look at him.

“I never told you why I started training to go to space, did I,” Momota said faintly. 

Saihara shook his head. _Yeah, because you went into stupid tangents on sea voyages and jungle adventures every time I got curious and asked… Not that it mattered all that much, since I know you had to forge your papers..._

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Momota whispered. “I was in elementary school, and my only other relatives were my dad’s parents. Even though they were getting way too old to have a kid again, they took me in.”

Saihara sat up. “Momota-kun--”

Momota placed a finger in front of his lips, and instantly, Saihara clamped his mouth shut. _It’s his fantasy. If listening is what’ll make him happy and fulfill the setting, then I have to…_

“It was years ago, so I’ve more or less forgotten their voices,” Momota admitted. “And even their faces are barely flickers in my head. But every time I’d help my grandparents out on their farm at night, after I got back from school…” He reached his arm further out into the sky, stretching, almost straining to touch something. “I’d look at the stars and wonder if my parents were there.”

Saihara was stunned. _This sort of backstory--_

“The universe is on my side,” Momota insisted, bringing his hand back down. “Even if my parents are dead, even if they aren’t anywhere in the stars, I want to go out there.” He took in a deep breath. “I’m the protagonist of my own story. Even if I’m just a farm boy, I can become the greatest hero in the universe, reaching the ends of the sky and adventuring beyond it, leading humanity further…”

“And that’s what makes you the Luminary of the Stars,” Saihara murmured.

It made a lot more sense, knowing that.

“You’re my rival, and I’m an amazing pilot, so I’ll definitely beat you,” Momota scoffed. “But… honestly, it feels like a waste to put an end to our fight. Part of me wishes these days could just last forever, y’know?”

_Who is he imagining?_ Saihara couldn’t help but wonder. _Probably an ambiguous person like Kaede was, but… the ideal that Kaito has is so much different from hers…_

“Where’s your fire right before our last race? The trash talk, the sarcasm, the pushiness, the passive-aggressiveness...” Momota asked suddenly. “Normally that’s just what we do, but… The hell, you’re even getting someone like _me_ to blab all this sentimental crap…”

“T-The fire’s there,” Saihara said. _It’s not a total lie. Technically._ “My heart… is beating faster than you know right now.”

Momota’s eyes widened a bit. Then, he laughed. “Man… nobody has ever made me wanna stay in one place for so long. I wanna get out there to space as soon as I can, but you… I don’t want this to end. You’re really somethin’, huh?”

Saihara’s cheeks were even more heated than before, if that was even possible. _What does that mean. Are you in love with me? What does that mean?!_

Still in the same place as before, Momota took his hand, interlocking their fingers.

Saihara’s breath hitched; instinctively, he turned to look at the other boy. _That’s it. I’m dead. Bye. Oh my GOD--_

“Don’t look,” Momota whispered, ears pink. “Just keep me grounded, like you always do… just for a little bit longer.”

Saihara blinked, then did as Momota said. _Grounded, huh…? I wouldn’t have expected someone as eccentric and idealistic as Momota-kun to want that in his life. Not even a little bit..._

It then occurred to Saihara that he still hadn’t figured out why Momota was acting so weird back in the real world.

“Momota-kun... are you feeling sick?” Saihara asked carefully.

Not carefully enough, because Momota let go of Saihara’s hand and rolled on top of him, caging him in with his arms. “You’re underestimating me, aren’t ya?!” he accused, upset.

“N-No, I’m--” _oh my god oh my god oh my GOD aaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAHHHH--_ “B-Back up a little, Momota-kun-- get--” Saihara’s tongue was completely tied.

“I won’t back off,” Momota swore. “I’m not gonna hold back. I’m not ‘sick’. This isn’t fake, okay? _This is how I actually feel._ You gotta accept that head-on. I’m putting my all into things here and at our last race, so that when I get back, I can finally tell you--”

“Tell me what?” Saihara whispered, thinking aloud.

Momota froze, then relented. “You’ll find out after I beat you. Promise. Real men don’t go back on their word.”

He then released Saihara.

_His ideal does have a competitive streak, even if they’re both kinda trash at communication… I’ll have to say something cocky._ “Y-You mean--” Saihara’s voice cracked and his face flushed, all mental strength completely wilting upon realizing he just couldn’t sound as aggressive as he wanted. “After I beat you…”

It felt wrong to say. It wasn’t like himself.

Momota beamed nonetheless, blush-tinged cheeks illuminated by the dawn sunrise slowly creeping up around them. “Yeah,” he breathed. He grinned. “Thanks.”

The scenario washed out into white, ending there.

=

And when Saihara woke up, mysteriously back in his dorm room, he immediately turned around, bit his pillow as hard as he could, and screamed into it.

_That was somewhat helpful in letting me understand Momota-kun while we’re both still alive,_ Saihara thought,_ but what the hell. Clearly, in Momota-kun’s ideal scenario, he doesn’t like admitting when things are wrong… just like now._

It was… flustering. Like Akamatsu’s scenario. A bit less sad than that one, but still flustering all the same. 

It also made Saihara feel incredibly, uneasily guilty-- how could he be catching feelings and getting all blushy over people in the middle of something like a killing game happening all around him? After four of his friends had been brutally, sometimes gorily murdered? After Toujo was executed so horrifically hardly a few days ago?

How selfish could he be, thinking of his own feelings and his own desire to learn what Momota was hiding instead of the killing game as a whole? How could he have been delusional enough to convince himself that what he was doing was _right?_

_All you did was rationalize your own personal desires as something that could’ve helped someone else,_ Saihara thought miserably, letting go of the pillow with a sigh. _And even then, it was still only a selfish excuse..._

_...Was that how Toujo-san felt in her last few days?_

_I should’ve just trusted him. I should’ve just gone to bed with the assumption that he’d tell us later, like Harukawa-san said. I’m the worst..._

In the corner of his room, a silver gleam caught Saihara’s eye. He turned on his bedside lamp, and saw what it really was.

A spider, weaving and crawling along on its thread.

_A thin line divides heaven and hell,_ Saihara realized. He turned off the lamp and closed his eyes, letting his head hit the pillow again.

_I wonder how long I’ll be teetering there._

_=_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END SECTION 2.
> 
> Section 3 will start next week! Thank you all for reading, and for your kudos and comments. They're seriously inspiring and motivational.


	19. 3-1. Transfer Student From Beyond the Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara and Harukawa make a promise to each other that they might not be able to keep.
> 
> Saihara and Shinguji open up to each other more than they had before.
> 
> Saihara and Ouma are as close together yet simultaneously as far apart as they'll ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on thanksgiving break! and yet, even though i planned on writing a chapter a day so that i'd have a backlog for when my exam week starts, i'm already behind. L
> 
> even so, section 3 starts today! we're still pretty deep in slow burn territory, but i hope you all enjoy this chapter and the section overall anyway.

Once Harukawa had managed to actually become friends with Saihara and Momota, and once the others seemed to realize she was friends with them, she showed everyone around her lab.

_The Ultimate Assassin’s lab, huh?_ Ouma looked around, taking in all the weaponry and tech. He hated it. It reminded him too much of _her._ Of his mother…

_“There’s blood on my hands,” _she’d mutter, furiously scrubbing with soap. _“There’s so much blood… If they see the blood, they’ll know where I am…”_

(There never was anything actually there, though.)

Ouma shook the thoughts out of his head. 

Momota let out a low whistle. “This is…”

“A lot of weapons,” Saihara finished his sentence, observant.

“Kehehe…” Shinguji shivered. “What a terrifying, dangerous place.”

“I’ll be keeping this room locked, just so nobody can try to use these weapons in the future,” Harukawa explained. “Hypothetically, that means I can use them, but I’m the only one skilled enough to use them to begin with, so that should be enough to single me out even if I do use them. By the way, don’t touch any of this stuff.”

_Not that that matters, _Ouma looked curiously at a crossbow, ignoring Harukawa’s order and poking it._ I can just pick the lock..._

“Hey, what does this button do?” Yumeno was holding up an AK-47, finger on the trigger.

Chabashira, Gonta, and Kiibo let out horrified shrieks; Harukawa swiftly moved to get her hand off of the gun. “Yumeno, don’t--!”

_Pop. _Confetti came out. “Tada!” Yumeno grinned proudly.

Everyone stared as the confetti fluttered miserably to the floor. 

Iruma sighed. “Now’s not the time for that shit, Yumeno.”

Yumeno frowned, sheepishly bending down to pick up the scraps. “S-Sorry.” 

Ouma huffed, turning around. _Where was I… Right. I can pick the lock and get a weapon if it ever comes down to that, but it’ll have to be something low-strength…_

There was no point in telling himself everything would be fine. Even though one-fourth of them were dead, this wouldn’t be the end. No matter how smart these guys could be, or how stupid, at least one of them would still be willing to throw the rest under the bus.

_“They’re after me,”_ she’d frantically wheeze, a strangled sob at her lips as she’d run her hands through her wavy hair. _“They’re after me, they’re watching me, they know everything and they’re out to kill me, they’ll--”_

Ouma crushed the thought. _She’s not here, and neither are all of DICE. Forget them. You’re not like her._

(He refused to admit that he had been, and still was, thinking the same way.)

=

“So, Momota,” Harukawa smiled. “Feeling better?”

It was nighttime again, and as always, the three of them gathered in the courtyard to exercise. In a happier turn of events, Momota had finally returned.

Saihara grimaced. _I’m not sure what’s scarier, Harukawa-san when she’s mad or Harukawa-san when she smiles…_

Momota nodded, smiling as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that, you two! I really was feelin’ kinda shitty, so I ditched training…”

“I’m glad you’re feeling okay,” Saihara smiled back. 

Harukawa yawned, unperturbed. “You owe us four hundred for all the days you skipped, Momota.”

Momota blanched, impervious grin somehow cracking a bit. “N-No thanks! As the Luminary of the Stars, I’m perfectly capable ‘n all, but I’ll just watch you two do it. Sidekicks need to train more!” 

Harukawa wrinkled her nose, but was still smiling fondly, like she was looking over someone whose company she actually enjoyed. Saihara narrowed his eyes, incredulous._ It’s barely been a week since Harukawa-san joined us, but don’t tell me…_

Momota pressed his lips into a thin line. “Weeeeell, Harumaki… If you’re worried about straining your muscles, then by all means, come here and lie in the grass with me. We can do nothing and have fun watching Shuichi struggle to break past thirty pushups.”

_Wha-- hey! Rude!_ At the same time, Saihara forced all thoughts of Momota’s Love Hotel fantasy out of his head.

Harukawa choked on something-- ugh, she was going to laugh, wasn’t she-- but then sighed. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, and so is Saihara… debatably.”

“If you two are just gonna bully me, I’m going back to bed,” Saihara warned, somewhat deflated. 

“Aww, no,” Momota laughed, then coughed. “Stay with us, buddy. We’re sorry for hurting your feelings.”

Saihara stayed quiet. 

“At any rate…” Harukawa turned to Momota, hands on her hips. “Do we at least get an explanation for why you defected?”

“Defected?” Momota tilted his head.

“I think she means ghosted us,” Saihara explained. Momota still looked confused; Saihara tried altering his words. “Ditched us? Left us behind?”

“OH,” Momota suddenly understood. “I said so, right? I wasn’t feelin’ well. The headaches were really strong for some reason…” He beamed. “But I’m better now! Better’n ever, in fact!”

“So you’ll do the pushups with us?” Harukawa raised a brow.

Momota continued beaming. “I will live on in your hearts as _you two _do pushups!”

_Momota-kun, you fucking cheapskate. _Saihara sighed, getting down to do the pushups.

Harukawa blew a strand of her hair away, both displeased and unimpressed. “I’ll bench press you next time you give me a half-assed excuse like that.”

“Be my guest!” Momota grinned. “It’ll make me feel closer to flying in the sky than the rest a’ this place, anyhow.”

Much to both Saihara’s and Harukawa’s reluctance, they did the pushups themselves, with Momota chatting about legendary stories of his adventures and whatnot. Momota left once they both reached a hundred, citing sleepiness.

“He’s exasperating,” Harukawa pouted, toying with a ponytail. “First he drags me out, and then he just leaves me to do this stuff when I get used to it?”

“Same case with me, technically,” Saihara grimaced. “I do like him as a person, but he’s hard to get that way.”

“Mm...” Harukawa turned to him carefully. “You like him as a person… You say that, but you _like _like him, don’t you? More than that.”

Saihara blinked, panic rising internally. “Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Harukawa frowned. “I have _eyes. _I’ve seen those--” she gestured vaguely, and somehow that made Saihara even more confused. “Those looks you give him.”

_What looks? What looks does she mean?!_

"I-- I don't know!" Saihara nearly squeaked._ Better to just admit it to someone like Harukawa-san… Lying to her is a death wish._ "Feelings are weird, a-and... It's Momota-kun, you know?"

"Please, you're obvious," Harukawa scoffed, amused. 

_You know what?! After hearing you jump to this conclusion so fast, I’d say it’s pretty damn clear you feel the same way! _Saihara sighed. "I wouldn’t call it a crush, exactly. To be honest, I'm still not really sure what I see him as..."

“Whatever it is,” Harukawa said, “let’s all stay the way we are for now. He inspires us both, and while we’re in the middle of a killing game, that should be enough.”

_He inspires her, too? ...Somehow, I’m not surprised to hear that. _Saihara nodded. It’s very _Momota-kun-ish to give people helpful pep talks..._

“Can we agree… not to make a move just yet?” Harukawa finally asked.

Saihara didn’t like that tone of voice. He narrowed his gaze, confused. “What do you mean, ‘just yet’?

Harukawa bit her thumbnail. “Escape first, then we can compete for him,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “At the very least… I want us all to escape together.”

_There was some emotional weight behind that sentence._ Saihara morphed, intentionally keeping his face neutral as he scanned Harukawa’s voice and physical gestures.

_‘Us all.’ Different from Toujo-san… Harukawa-san actually seems to want to get out of this academy with me and Momota-kun in tow. I’m… honestly kind of happy to hear that._

“You really do think of us as friends, Harukawa-san,” Saihara said aloud, somewhat amazed.

Harukawa twisted his arm behind his back; Saihara yelped in pain. “OWOWOW-- Harukawa-san, what the_\--”_

“We _are _friends, Stupidhara,” she said coolly. “It’s obvious.” Then, she grinned, though it looked more like a demonic smile than a smile of goodwill-- she was probably not used to playful teasing, if Saihara was thinking right. “When we all get out of here though, it’ll become a rivalry. You won’t be getting Momota that easily.” 

“I don’t like the idea of competing for Momota-kun like he’s a prize,” Saihara looked to the side. “But… I’m okay with the idea of confessing to him after we get out of here.”

Harukawa paused, then nodded. “Both of us confessing... Fine, then. It’s a promise.” She let go of his arm and ran back to the dorms, demonic grin on her face once again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Saihara. Get some sleep!”

“Ah…” Saihara nearly spoke out, but decided not to. He looked at his arm, somewhat red around the places where her fingers had gripped.

“Pfft…” Saihara stifled a giggle with his knuckles, a genuine laugh bursting from the seams of his lips. “Rivals, huh? How childish…” He beamed, running towards the doors of the dorm area.

_Just wait. We’ll all get out of here together, safe and sound as friends, just like how we promised… And when we all do, I won’t hold back!_

=

“Rise and shine, ursine!” the Monokubs’ cheery voices filled the monitors.

Yumeno grumbled, burying herself back into the blankets.

Monosuke rolled off a list, proceeding to read from it. “The weather is sunny, because you shits are in a cage! The humidity is average, because you shits are in a cage! The wind speed is medium to the northwest--”

“Hey, that don’t make sense,” Monokid frowned.

“W-H-Y I-S T-H-E-R-E W-I-N-D I-N A G-L-A-S-S C-A-G-E-?” Monodam beeped. “W-H-E-R-E D-O-E-S I-T C-O-M-E F-R-O-M-?”

“Suspension of disbelief!” Monophanie cackled.

“Anyway,” Monotaro interrupted. “Go explore the fourth floor! It’s open now!”

“So long, bear-well!”

“Good,” Yumeno rasped sleepily, burrowing herself further. “Annoying bears…”

“Yumeno-san!” A cheerful voice called from outside her door. “Good moooorning!”

Yumeno nearly fell off the bed. _Ah, it’s Tenko… _She yawned, stretching before stumbling out to open the door. _How can she be so upbeat this early..._

“Nyeh… Tenko, what is it?” Yumeno rubbed her eye sleepily as she opened the door. Sometime earlier in the week, she finally caved and agreed to call the aikido master by her given name. Yumeno hadn’t gotten a break since.

Chabashira looked like she’d just won a billion dollars. “Aww, you’re so cute in the mornings!”

Yumeno raised a brow, inviting Chabashira in to sit on her bed while she went to brush her teeth. “You see me every morning these days. I keep telling you, even if the magic show ended like that and nobody cared for my magic in Harukawa's lab yesterday, I’m fine now...”

Chabashira beamed, sitting properly on the bed. “It’s like a brand new gift, every day! And also, you never want to take chances when it comes to mental health!”

“You need to wish for better gifts than a drooling, sleepy witch at nine AM,” Yumeno furrowed her brows, squeezing the toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She could physically feel the awkwardness left by Chabashira’s silence.

_Even Tenko doesn’t believe that my mana and magic are the truth. She thinks my magic is all a lie... It sucks. _Yumeno groaned. “There it is again, the headache…”

“There’s medicine in the warehouse!” Chabashira offered helpfully. “I get them a lot when I’m with you too, Yumeno-san, but the medicine helps!”

“Don’ waff aby,” the foamy toothpaste muffled Yumeno’s voice as she wrinkled her nose. She spat out the toothpaste. “Don’t want any,” she repeated herself.

Chabashira fiddled with her hair, somewhat antsy. “Angie-san wanted to show you her lab,” she said hesitantly. “Apparently it’s opened up along with the rest of the fourth floor… But before that, my lab also opened! It’s in the courtyard.”

Yumeno at last combed her bright red hair and finished changing into her daytime clothes. “We can go there, then. Your lab first, since it’s closer, then Angie’s.”

Chabashira blinked. “You’ll go with me?”

Yumeno scoffed. “Obviously.” Her expression fell into something more disappointed. “Aside from everyone who died… and aside from Angie, you’re the only person here I can really topplegate.”

Chabashira winced, holding her head. Then she giggled. “You mean ‘tolerate’, Yumeno-san.”

_Oh. Well, it was still heartfelt even if I messed up a word. Who cares._ Yumeno shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

“Shall we go, then?” Chabashira held out a hand. Yumeno took it, ignoring the electrifying feeling in her head upon accepting the gesture.

“To the courtyard we go.”

=

In East Asian cultures, four is considered a creepy and unlucky number. This was in line with what Shinguji Korekiyo was associated with for much of his life, so it didn’t bother him all that much that his own lab was on the Ultimate Academy’s fourth floor.

The Ultimate Anthropologist lab made him incredibly jittery and excitable. It was just so _big. _A vast library of ancient scrolls and texts and artifacts, some on shelves, others behind glass cases. He could quite literally spend _weeks_ in here doing nothing but poring over scripts. There was even a familiar gold-leaf katana he recognized. 

The whole place reeked of history and culture. It gave him the biggest headache of a lifetime, but Shinguji loved it.

“It’s all a bunch of old stuff,” Harukawa wrinkled her nose. “I don’t get it.”

_Of course not, _Shinguji decided. _Nobody ever really does. Even Momota-kun shrieked and ran out of this floor before even so much as setting foot in here, claiming a deep, dark fear of ghosts and the supernatural… For someone who cares about a manly image, he certainly doesn’t hesitate to run with his tail between his legs. His pallid skin and ghastly expression were certainly a sight to see._

“Really, Harukawa-san? I think it looks really interesting,” Saihara mused. “Like a history museum. I’d love to read some stuff here given the time, if that’s okay with you, Shinguji-kun.”

“R-Really?” Shinguji was genuinely surprised. Then, he laughed, hugging his shoulders with a content sigh. “I’m glad you agree, Saihara-kun! Folklore is inherent to human nature. I can lend you some of my favorite documents and explain in excruciating detail the importance of fables to culture if you’d like.”

Saihara blinked, then smiled awkwardly. “Mm. I wouldn’t mind, Shinguji-kun.”

“Heeeeeey, hey, Saihara-chan, c’mere! Look at this! What is this?!” Ouma yelled wildly, putting his mangy fingerprints all over Shinguji’s precious papers. 

_When did he get in?_ Shinguji shook his head. _No matter._ He materialized to where Ouma was, glaring menacingly at him. “Do not touch.” It took much willpower to avoid strangling the other boy right then and there-- he somehow understood Harukawa’s feelings from a week ago, immediately after the trial. “These are ancient artifacts. One must handle them with care.”

Ouma blinked at him, then ran across the room with a boisterous laugh, somehow managing to slip past the glass case and touch the gold leaf katana. “Huuuh, what’s this? Eww, it’s sticking to my hands! And I’m even getting a headaaaache, gross…”

Shinguji let out a small shriek, then loomed over him. _“Ouma-kun._ Put the katana back and don’t touch anything else, or I will _tear out your fucking nerves.” _

“Eeeeeek, scary,” Ouma pouted, not seeming scared in the least as he put the katana back. He rubbed his gold-stained palms on his pants legs, then muttered a swear under his breath when the glitter didn’t end up going away. He looked up at the others and grinned. “Welp! Seeya! I’m gonna go kill someone now, okay?! I’ll use this shitty katana, so don’t forget it at the trial!”

And then he ran out.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara put a hand to his forehead, letting out a sigh. He bowed slightly to Shinguji. “I’m so sorry about him…”

Shinguji raised a brow. Beneath his mask, a corner of his mouth quirked up, amused. “You don’t have to apologize_ for _him, you know.”

“He’s being the same lying asshole he always is, just let him be,” Harukawa sighed, irritated. “You’re too nice, Saihara. It’s fine with friends, but when you’re like that to people like him, it’s kinda disgusting.”

Saihara touched his head ever so slightly. “I… I just sort of…”

_Instinct, maybe? Or part of his missing memories connecting him to Ouma-kun more than he realizes?_ Shinguji hummed. It was interesting to think about. 

He frowned. _But more importantly, I need to ask him about that thing. It’s been a week, and now Saihara-kun is finally here…_

_I have to confront him about it._

=

_The courtyard had Miu and Tenko’s labs. The first floor had Kaede’s and Kirumi’s labs. The second floor had Gonta’s and Himiko’s labs. The third floor had Maki’s and Ryouma’s labs. And now the fourth floor has Angie’s and Korekiyo’s labs. Shuichi, Kokichi, Kaito, Kiibo, Rantaro, and Tsumugi’s labs are all unknown for now._

_But do tell me, God,_ Angie smiled to herself as she took in the colorful sights and chemical smells of the Ultimate Artist’s lab, _where was Rantaro’s lab, and why weren’t we given access to it before he died?_

It was still bugging her, naturally. Amami’s talent and all… His death and Akamatsu’s execution aside, there was too much mystery still attached to that classmate of hers. She got a headache thinking about it, but not one strong enough for God to give her a premonition of words the way He’d do sometimes.

“Angie!” Yumeno’s voice exclaimed from the door. 

Angie snapped out of her reverie, grinning when she saw who was at the door. “Himiko! And Tenko!” She barreled over to the pair, practically attacking them with a hug. “Look at Angie’s lab! Isn’t it lovely?”

It was indeed a perfect fit for God and herself. Plus, it had two different doors that both locked-- Angie would be able to concentrate on her work and connection to God alone with this. The ceiling was also exposed with high beams, perfect for working on any sort of hanging freeform sculptures, or maybe even for fresco ceiling painting… Angie could only dream of it.

“Angie?” Yumeno interrupted. “Aaaannngieee… Nyeh…” She smacked Angie’s arm impatiently. “Pay attention!”

_Ooh, Himiko’s like a little kitten. A nonthreatening tiger cub who desperately wants to be taken seriously..._

“Hmm?” Angie tilted her head. “Sorry! What was it?”

Chabashira frowned. “Pay attention to Yumeno-san, please. Her every word must hang from your mind.”

“That only applies to God for Angie,” Angie smiled.

“W-Well, Yumeno-san_ is_ my god!” Chabashira retorted. “Or more like, my goddess!”

“Nyahahaha! Tenko, you’re very lucky Angie doesn’t kick people out for blasphemous remarks!” Angie returned. 

“Tenko! Angie!” Yumeno stomped a foot. The two turned to look at her; the magician cleared her throat. “A_-hem_. As I was saying… Tenko’s lab looked really cool.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Chabashira clasped her hands. “It’s a huge dojo! Anyone can train there if they wish!” Chabashira paused. “Girls are more welcome than boys, though. Kiibo and any other nonbinary individuals I don’t know about are allowed on alternating days.”

“Angie’s God doesn’t separate things like that, but you do you, Tenko,” Angie smiled.

Chabashira looked irritated. “Well, Aikido is peaceful, so even if you are religious, it will likely not go against your beliefs. Do join if you’d like!”

_You look a lot like you’d rather Angie stay away, but sure, Tenko. _“Hmm.” Angie smiled. “Maybe at some point! Angie would like to try out some things in her lab too!”

“We can all hang out together, then,” Yumeno beamed. “Okay! We’ll hang out! And have fun!”

“A girl’s night,” Chabashira said dreamily. “Girls… I’d love to, Yumeno-san!”

“This isn’t just gonna be at night, you know,” Angie grinned. “But! Angie will have fun with you two wherever you decide! Nyahaha!”

Chabashira and Yumeno chittered amongst themselves. Angie’s thoughts raced.

_It’s nice of them to think of fun after everything we’ve been through… But Angie wants to focus on more preventative measures. We can’t let ourselves fall into a cycle of murder, followed by pretending to be peaceful, followed by murder again._

_Angie can only pray that nobody goes against the rules and murders anyone else again. Rantaro and Kaede were bad enough, since they were both important, but we lost Ryouma and Kirumi too. And if Angie gets the feeling that anyone will break our rules of peace again… _She lowered her head, gaze darkening.

_Angie will crush that resistance herself this time, with God’s wrath by her side._

=

“Saihara-kun.”

Saihara blinked in surprise. “Yes, Shinguji-kun?” 

Shinguji looked rather serious. “Putting aside the matter of Ouma-kun… May we talk? In private, if you will. I’ve been wanting to discuss something with you for over a week now.”

“Um-- sure?” Saihara turned to Harukawa as if to ask permission; she waved him off dismissively and left Shinguji’s lab, apparently okay with leaving him alone. He followed Shinguji to a secluded corner near a ladder, away from the main door of the lab. 

_He does look and act a little creepy, but it’d be rude to assume he’d try killing me here and now. Right? _Putting aside his slight distrust, Saihara took in his surroundings. The smell was musty, but the corner Shinguji led him to was clearly a secure location away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

They stopped walking at last. “I’ll get straight to the point,” Shinguji breathed, turning around to face him. “The second motive is done and over with, but I’m still thinking about the motive videos. Namely, the fact that I had yours.”

Saihara froze.

“What… What was in it?” His voice felt distant, cold. He didn’t want to confront this.

Shinguji appeared to pick up on his sudden discomfort. “Things about your family, generally speaking... but I’m mostly asking because your motive video didn’t give you much reason to escape. It was just… it’s hard to describe, actually. It was less like a motive, and more like a reminder.”

Saihara’s throat felt dry; he fought the urge to physically scratch it. “My family, huh.”

“Your uncle and aunt, to be precise,” Shinguji stared at him unsettlingly, coiling the ends of his long, silky hair around his finger. “And your parents, and something about acting along with detective work…? But there was something else.”

Saihara waited with bated breath, closing his eyes as the inevitable question came.

“Who’s ‘_[$%!%#@]_’?”

_There it is! There it is! AHAHAHAHA! You’ve been found out, [$--_

“Nobody,” Saihara said numbly. He took in a breath, hoping to god he wasn’t shaking and hoping to god Shinguji wouldn’t notice the way he had subconsciously gone to touch his hair. “It’s--” he deflated, upset at the way his voice sounded. “Not-- not important.”

How sad. Here he’d been thinking that he had somehow magically been rid of all dysphoric thoughts and anxieties.

_I don’t mind people knowing that I’m trans, but I wish it hadn’t been through a video like that… What could it possibly have told him?_

Shinguji’s eyes widened for the quickest split second before he continued staring at Saihara the way he had been before, as though thinking hard about something. Then, he took out the console with the video from inside his jacket. “Watch it if you’d like,” he said quietly. “I got it back at the Insect Meet and Greet, right before we trapped Ouma-kun with the bugs and left. I trust that you’re stable enough to see and figure out for yourself why I got suspicious of it.” Shinguji paused. “Even so… I’m sorry for asking something that personal. Was it…” he paused again, clearly doing his best to tread carefully around his words. “Was it a deadname?”

Saihara numbly took the minipad and avoided Shinguji’s gaze, unsure of whether to nod in assent or not. “Um--” he half choked. “Y-Yeah…” Shinguji stayed still, lips pressed to a fine line.

“If it makes you feel any better…” Shinguji started, awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder and then almost immediately retracting it. “You’re not alone. I’m nonbinary and pansexual, myself. I’m pretty sure most of the people here aren’t heterosexual either, actually. And although you’re the only transgender person here… people like you exist in all cultures around the world. It’s not really something special or aberrant-- it’s just human. It’s okay for you to be you.” He looked to the side. “I won’t judge you for who you are, and I don’t think anyone else here will either.” 

_That… was surprisingly thoughtful. And kind._

“Thanks,” Saihara croaked. He smiled, trying to clear his throat. “I mean it, Shinguji-kun. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Shinguji replied softly. “...I’ll be going, then.” 

“N-No--” Saihara shook his head. “No, you don’t have to leave. It’s your lab, after all. Not to mention, you do seem to love it here a lot.” He looked at the console in his hands and felt his heart suddenly fill with deadly curiosity. “I’ll leave. I’ll be in my dorm room, watching this.”

Shinguji stared. “Are you quite sure? I can escort you back if you wish. Artifacts can last forever if preserved well, Saihara-kun, but people never can. Even the best embalmers end up losing humans and humanity to time and the elements.” He looked concerned. “I haven’t seen it myself yet, but… even the most sane, kind people can end up losing their minds to grief and anger and pain...”

_That comparison was a bit too creepy for comfort, but I really do appreciate the thought. _Saihara nodded. “I can go alone, I’m positive. Thank you, though.”

He left Shinguji’s lab and sped from the fourth floor to the first, booking it all the way to his dorm room. Saihara closed the door behind him with a heavy, shaking chest, and at last pressed the power button on the console.

Monokuma’s irritating voice. Intro screen. 

And then he saw his family.

“I have the Tokyo Police Department on my side,” his uncle’s voice breathed against the phone line. His eyes were baggy; his skin looked dull, and his voice sounded rougher around the edges than what Saihara remembered. He was even smoking a cigarette-- Aunt Sonomi always said he’d kicked that habit years ago, but apparently the stress was pushing him back into relapse. 

“Fucking-- I _know_, okay?” he slammed a fist against his desk, poring through files at the same time. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed it against one of the files, extinguishing it. “I know you’re doing your best to locate those kids, but if my nephew turns up _dead_ after all this time because of _your _incompetence and lollygagging, you’ll have a lawsuit on your hands. Understand?!”

His uncle slammed the phone on down the receiver and sighed, burying his head in his hands. Aunt Sonomi came into the room then with a tray of tea. She set it aside and walked behind him, holding him in her arms and setting her chin on his head.

“Sonomi,” his uncle Shuhei breathed, voice worn. “I’ve been doing as much as I can, but my outreach just isn’t big enough. I don’t know what to tell Shunpei and Sayuri.”

“You don’t have to tell them anything, Shuhei,” his aunt Sonomi murmured, running her hands soothingly through his hair. “They know what’s been going on just as well as we do.”

“I know, but…”

Sonomi pressed her hand more firmly around her husband. “Sayuri texted me earlier, asking if they found out where ‘[$%!%#@]’ is yet. Shunpei called me later asking something similar. For people who claim to be adaptable actors, they’ve been taking quite a long time just to accept that their ‘daughter’ isn’t--”

“That’s also an issue, but not the biggest one we have right now,” Shuhei sighed. “They’re just as antsy as us, since Shuichi is their child, but as famous people, they can’t afford to be vocal about it. Especially since they live overseas…”

“Whatever the case,” Sonomi insisted, separating from him and wringing her hands. “Shuichi is a smart boy, and I trust his acting skills and his detective work, but if something even more dangerous is going on, then what will we do about--”

An image of Monokuma cut off the video, and Saihara very nearly threw the console in frustration. _You can’t just cut it off there--! Why did Aunt Sonomi mention my acting skills to begin with?! She knew I said I'd never lie like that again after everything my mom and dad did, so why--_

“So, Saihara…” Monokuma smiled. “Did that glimpse of your family remind you of anything?”

Saihara paused, furrowing his brows. _Remind me…?_

“Your family is working hard, but you don’t have to worry,” Monokuma said simply. He held out a paw. “That was their story. This is a reminder that you are the protagonist of _your own _story.” Monokuma grinned. “Have fun with the rest of the killing game!”

And the console shut off.

_Cryptic as hell._ Saihara frowned. _Still… it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting. _

Shinguji was right in that it was a very strange video, however. Though tame, it didn’t feel like a motive to murder and escape at all. A reminder… It was reminding him to believe in himself? What the hell? That just didn’t sound right, especially coming from Monokuma. What was the point in _encouraging_ one of the death game participants?

Saihara set the console to the side and flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it would give him the answers he wanted.

_What was the point of it all?_

=

“This place is creepy,” Kiibo complained, holding onto a bit of the back of Gonta’s suit. “I want to go back to the other floors…”

“S-Stop that,” Shirogane scolded from ahead of them, trembling with a flashlight in her hands. “What if-- W-What if the person who designed this school hears you? And they start crying, like-- like they’re gonna, you know-- be all like, _‘how dare you! I put my blood and sweat and tears into this creepy, low-lighting design! And building it and budgeting for it took forever too! Please treat it with care and absolute reverence, or I’ll be sad!’_ or something?”

Gonta bit his lip. “Shirogane-san, please pardon Gonta’s confusion. He has no clue what you’re talking about. Gonta thinks we should just… just walk on. His animal instincts are telling him to leave as fast as possible, though...”

Shirogane sighed. “Aha… Right…”_ Well, whatever. My meta references to this whole thing being a TV show will make sense in the end._ She straightened up. “W-We mustn’t be scared! Even if this floor is d-dark and extremely-- well, that is-- just, uh, creepy in general, um--” she took in a deep breath. “We have to give our all into exploring!”

Kiibo sighed as the three of them continued onward, still holding onto the end of Gonta’s suit from behind like a kindergartner. “I suppose you’re right…”

Shinguji and Angie’s labs were on this floor. It was perfect-- the creepiness of the floor matched well with the creepiness of both of those individuals. Both had interest somewhat in the supernatural. Not to mention, both had come exceedingly close to figuring Shirogane out in the first trial. 

They’d die in this chapter, no sweat. 

_Not to mention, the flashback lights I have planned… Their lives will have been meaningless. Their attempts to survive will have been futile. It’ll all go according to the script I’ve written and altered..._

“Ehehe…” Shirogane giggled as she walked ahead of the other two, making the turn to the hall that both lab entrances were at. “Ehehehehehe…”

She pretended not to hear Kiibo concernedly tugging Gonta back and pulling him down to whisper in his ear, “Hey, I’ve been wondering for a while now, but do you think Shirogane-san needs a psych eval or a doctor or something?”

=

Ouma had ran back to his room and taken out his journal and pen. He began writing, ignoring the shitty glittery stuff on his hands and pants. He could shower and change clothes later, anyway. 

_Let’s start simple. Those who were already dead-- Akamatsu and Rantaro-- didn’t have motive videos. The killer, Toujo had her own video… Though the prime minister bit was a single line, and it was actually just about her employer. Weirdly enough, even I got a headache looking at it…_

_Then the victim and the person who swapped with him. Hoshi had Harukawa’s video and vice versa. Harukawa’s video was about an orphanage and a now-dead childhood friend she loved… It was basically blackmailing her by putting the children’s lives at stake. If she’d watched it, she would’ve killed. It gave me the migraine of a lifetime… I hate her, but her backstory is stupidly similar… _

_As for Hoshi’s video… not a lot of it actually gave me a headache. Maybe that one throwaway line about the mafia, I guess? The way it was structured made it feel… almost like he was intentionally being targeted, what with his depressive thoughts and all..._

_Moving on to those still alive. I had Gonta’s video. Stuff about his life being raised by wolves in the forest for a period of time, and then bugs. Also gave me a headache. Gonta had Shirogane’s video, which talked about fictional anime characters (ew) and a psychologist. They were apparently important to her because of how they helped with her anxiety, and she’d always go back to them. They were also into anime, and talked to her about cosplay and her favorite TV show to make her feel accepted. I got a headache from that one too..._

_Shirogane had Kiibo’s video-- the most suspicious video of all. Nothing happened. Just a question… ‘Do you remember yet?’ I got a headache at that too, but it was way too suspicious._

Ouma narrowed his eyes. _I was right to suspect Kiibo from the start. This, plus the idea that everyone’s being watched via bugs… Maybe Kiibo is the biggest bug of ‘em all. A walking, talking listening device..._

_Anyway… Kiibo had Iruma’s video, which was about her time spent in a coma at the hospital. It mentioned some childhood friend, and more or less tried to scare her into thinking she’d die soon whether she was in this place or out of it, enabling her to kill to escape. Also gave me a headache._

_Iruma had my video. I stole it before she could watch it, and it obviously gave me a headache. It was all about DICE-- of my siblings-- and about Mom. _

Ouma refused to think about it more than that. It made his blood boil…

_Now… Saihara had Momota’s video, which was centered on his grandparents. Got the headache about that, too. Momota had Chabashira’s video, which was all about aikido and a ‘lost love, magical and dyed in red’ or something… Something felt off about that one, but I got the headache, so there’s that._

_Chabashira had Angie’s video, which was mostly stuff about her island and her God. The headache was there. Angie had Yumeno’s video, which was about how she struggled as a street magician. Also gave me a headache. _

_Yumeno had Shinguji’s video. This one was weird… It was stuff about his sister and her wish to have friends. It made no sense for a motive video for Shinguji himself… and it didn’t give me a headache either._

_Finally, Shinguji had Saihara’s video, which was stuff about his family drama and… what I can only assume is either a sister’s name, or a deadname. Aside from my own video, this one gave me the strongest headache._

Ouma sighed, finished with writing down the analysis into his black notebook. He’d been so engrossed in sketching designs and calculating instructions for the anti-bug inventions that he’d forgotten to write down information on the motive videos back when the second murder was actually at hand. Even if the motive passed, surely information on everyone’s pasts would be useful down the line.

He clicked the pen shut and closed the book.

_Now, to get to Iruma about those little inventions…_

=

Apparently, that mysterious door on the fourth floor was a computer lab. It hadn’t opened up yet, but according to those fucking bears, it would soon. The idea that someone would dare to prohibit the great, ballsy girl genius Iruma Miu from going anywhere was something she didn’t quite like to think about, but if it would open eventually, Iruma decided she’d tolerate it for now.

Still… her brain positively teemed with ideas on what to do when the place opened. Kiibo, for all his hatred of technology, was relatively good at it himself, so he could be helpful… Of course, right now, he was exploring the creepy third floor with Gonta and Shirogane, so there was no point in fretting over him.

No point, and yet, she felt strangely connected to him. Every time they spoke or touched, it was like her brain was screaming at her.

Despite that, she did her best to control herself. _Let’s focus on Ouma’s commissions... _

It was weird. What would these devices eventually be used for? She had no clue what Ouma’s purpose was. Sure, electronics could be dangerous, but the voltages listed on the supreme leader’s blueprints weren’t at all lethal to human beings-- and while she was saying that, not even to Kiibo. Ouma’s target was smaller.

_What the hell’s he playin’ at?_

She tinkered some more.

“Irumaaa,” an annoying, cutesy voice came at her lab door. Iruma put her goggles back on her forehead and opened the door.

“What,” she looked down at Ouma.

Ouma fluttered his lashes. “Can I come watch you work on my commissions?” The fluttering stopped, and he seriously took a peek inside. “One, if that’s what you’re working on, and two, if Kiiboy isn’t in there with you.”

“Yes and no,” Iruma sighed. “Kiibo’s on the fourth floor in the main building right now,” she jerked her head in that direction, “--and I am working on your dinky shit request.” _This gay midget really just tried fluttering his lashes at me to look all cutesy and approachable… gross. I mean, he’s cute for sure. 10/10 wouldn’t mind going further if he was actually into it and not just trying to con my sorry ass. But gross._

“I can help,” Ouma said seriously. He smiled. “I… I want this to work, y’know.”

_Huh. So even this antagonistic motherfucker has a dream to get out…_

Iruma motioned inside. “Come in, then. Just sit back and watch me work. No backseat driving, no topping from the bottom, nothing. You sit. You watch. I will do everything.”

“You could stand to use less sex metaphors every time you open your stupid, horny mouth, Iruma,” Ouma yawned. He grinned. “Not that it’s all that bad, though. I can toootally handle being a pillow princess!”

Iruma shivered, then cackled aloud as she put her goggles back on and proceeded to work. “Whatever ya say, virgin.” _He might be annoying, but aside from Kiibo, he’s the only one who gets my humor. At least, if he’s not just pretending. I never know what’s a lie and what’s the truth with this fucker…_

Ouma hugged his knees. He eyed the lab curiously, observantly even, but stayed in one place. “Can you make the finished products pink? Like, bright pepto-bismol pink. Make it look like a unicorn threw up on it,” he giggled. “Or like some shitty videogame company wanted to censor blood and couldn’t come up with a better color.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Iruma waved away the suggestion. “At least lemme get these prototypes up ‘n running before I make the finalized versions, sheesh… Akamatsu and her beta boytoy asked for just one of something, and that was fine, but six or seven inventions can’t be done that fast…” She turned around, angrily waving a wrench in Ouma’s face. My time ain’t cheap, y’know!”

Ouma blinked, then snickered. “If that’s the case, then turn around and keep working. Nobody told you to look at me.”

Iruma scowled and did as he said. Just then, the monitor in her lab turned on, displaying Monokuma. “Attention, students!”

Iruma’s blood ran cold. _Already? No fuckin’ way._ She nearly dropped the wrench--

“Please assemble in the gym! I have something veeery important to tell you all! Again, please assemble in the gym!”

Iruma let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Ouma was already standing up. “Aww, and here I wanted to stay with Iruma-chan!”

“Can it, brat boy,” Iruma growled, taking off her gear and setting everything aside before opening the door for both of them to go. “Let’s go to the gym.”

Ouma shrugged, grinning easily as he followed her out and into the courtyard. “Kay.”

=

“You’ve all had time to settle now, haven’t you?” Monokuma asked sweetly, Monokubs by his side. “I was even nice enough to give you a buffer week before opening up the next parts of the academy!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kiibo muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. Saihara was inclined to agree.

“This next motive is gonna be a strange one indeed,” Monotaro puffed up his chest. 

Monophanie looked at her (nonexistent) nails. “Like dreams! They never make any sense.”

“This motive,” Monokuma continued, whacking all the Monokubs in the face, “is one about death. The Transfer Student motive!”

The others stayed silent, looking at each other warily. What could they even say? All they could do was wait for Monokuma to explain further what he meant by a transfer student. 

Saihara frowned._ He didn’t kidnap another person, right? _

“There’s a funny little book here called the Necronomicon,” Monokuma elaborated with a grin. “If you do the ritual described in it, you can bring someone back from the dead. Summon one of the four who died, and they’ll come back to life!”

“R-Ritual?!” Momota suddenly looked a lot sweatier and a lot more tired than before. He whimpered, clutching the back of Harukawa’s sweater. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of ghosts or zombies,” Harukawa raised a brow.

“T-That’s preposterous,” Momota laughed shakily. “I’m the L-Luminary…”

Gonta swallowed. “Gonta… doesn’t like this idea very much…”

“Pft,” Iruma slapped her knee. “What, that’s it? Just some supernatural mumbo jumbo?” She gave Monokuma the finger. “Fuck, I’m outta here! Shit got me worried for no damn reason. _You can’t bring people back from the dead once they’ve fully died. _This motive’s gonna be meaningless from the start.”

“I’m a man of science,” Momota coughed beside her. “”N I second that.”

Kiibo nodded beside Iruma. “Especially not people whose deaths we saw directly, like…” He bit his lip, voice straining-- likely through pain from the ‘inner voice’ in his head. “Like Akamatsu-san, Hoshi-kun, or Toujo-san…”

“That’s only three of the four,” Ouma murmured, a sly grin on his face. “But I’m deeeefinitely curious about this one. Bringing back the dead...”

That surprised Saihara. Ouma was definitely a prankster, but behind that sly grin seemed to be… what was it? Wariness? Doubt? He couldn’t fathom why someone like Ouma, who was almost never serious, suddenly sounded like he was taking this so-- well, seriously.

“Personally, I was more interested in our mysterious Rantaro,” Ouma twirled his hair, eyes shining. He turned, gaze steady and set on Saihara. “But given the chance, I’d like to bring back Akamatsu-chan.”

_Kaede? _“Why’s that?” Saihara furrowed his brows.

Ouma smiled. “It’d make _you _happy, wouldn’t it?”

_What even… why? _A dull pain spread through Saihara’s head, just as fast as a flush on his cheeks. “Huh?”

“Rituals, hmm,” Angie tapped her chin, speaking up before Ouma and Saihara could continue. “Well, God is okay with it. We could bring someone back for information, then let them die again if need be…”

“Wha-- that’s so fuckin’ cruel!” Iruma whirled angrily to face her. 

Chabashira nodded, equally incensed. “Angie-san, that’s terrible! You’d let them experience the pain of death twice?”

“Miu said it before, didn’t she?” Angie tilted her head. “You can’t bring someone back to life. Whoever is being summoned can’t possibly be their real selves. It’ll be like a doppelganger, or a hallucination or something. They wouldn’t be real. They wouldn’t be the same person.”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno shifted in discomfort. “S-Still…”

Shinguji snickered. “Kehehe… All of you are thinking of this in the wrong way. If we simply do not use the book, we won’t have a motive on our hands to kill for.”

The others murmured in agreement. Shinguji was right, after all.

“Well, I’ve certainly heard of a Necronomicon existing, but I hadn’t the faintest clue that Monokuma had it in his… paws.” Shinguji’s eyes narrowed. “I’m intrigued by where and how you obtained it, and if I could study it for my own purposes.”

=

_He doesn’t care?_

That was wrong. That had to be wrong! Shirogane had written Shinguji to specifically be interested in the occult. Why wasn’t he more curious about the book as a tool of reviving the dead?

And his backstory, with his sister? That was a prime motivating factor! The selfishness, the incest! It was supposed to be just as dramatic as a trashy anime.

Shirogane bit her lip. _There must’ve been a configuration error somewhere… Tech support might not notice or be able to fix it. If I want him to die this chapter, I’ll have to intervene somehow._

_=_

“Hm…” Monokuma hummed thoughtfully. Then, he turned red with anger. “No! Of course not. You can only take the book if you plan on using it for the ritual at some point.” He dangled the book in front of them tauntingly. “You have a week to use it, if you dare.”

“Angie will take it then!” Angie snatched the book. “We can keep it in Angie’s lab, since it has a double lock. Once we all figure out a plan, we can go there and use it together!” She beamed.

Ouma raised a brow. _Trying to play the leader, huh… Everyone’s out here trying to be me. Akamatsu, Momota, and now Angie..._

Some of the others opposed for a bit, but eventually agreed to Angie’s terms. With everything being done and decided, the bears left first, followed by everyone else trickling out of the gym.

_There’s something fishy going on. You can barely call this ridiculous turn of events a motive. It doesn’t incentivize anyone to kill or escape. There’s no threat related to friends, relatives, personal information like secrets, or anything like that… There’s no fear-mongering or lies like with the motive videos. There isn’t even some sort of bribe like money… And Iruma was right when she said you can’t normally bring people back to life. _

Ouma narrowed his gaze.

_That, plus all the bugs, which prove that we’re being watched… This isn’t just us being trapped. We’re all being toyed with. _

He’d have to go back to Amami’s lab sooner or later, and try harder to get the information he needed. He grit his teeth, grinning.

_Whichever one of you is in charge of this... I’ll ruin your precious little show and toy with you right back._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i always wanted to know how iruma and ouma's interactions went outside the trials, where ouma clearly went out of his way to be explicitly crude when he normally isn't that foul-mouthed. of course, i never wrote anything like that in my own version of the trials, but i've always been curious nonetheless.
> 
> let's all say "thank you kiibo" for bringing up what we've all been thinking and demanding that tsumugi go find a therapist. adsfgfhjkjl
> 
> finally... I don't think I ever necessarily addressed this in an author's note before, but even though Saihara is the one whose perspective you see the most of in Everyone's Killing Reality, he isn't necessarily the main character. V3 itself toyed with that concept in canon, but I was thinking I'd like to put a different twist on it. As such, there's still bits and pieces of Saihara's backstory in this AU that he hasn't explicitly brought up or expanded on yet, notably from the motive video. Look forward to that when the time comes.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading!


	20. 3-2. Angie's Student Council (This Means War)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Momota sacrifices his health for two smiles.
> 
> Angie and Ouma are so similar, yet so different.
> 
> Chabashira decides that for Yumeno, she's willing to go to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting slightly later than normal!! i have to go to the airport in several hours, it's hell ; - ; but on the bright side, i got a new laptop!!! now i can actually work on the chapters at home without worrying about my computer crashing, lmao.
> 
> i hope you all enjoy the dumb, the gay, and the slowly inching forward plot in this chapter. here we go!

It was breakfast, and everyone was in the cafeteria. As always, Shinguji had finished his meal before everyone else had even arrived; Saihara was almost finished eating. The food still wasn’t as good as what Toujo used to make, but nonetheless, it was edible.

“What do you mean, Monodam ate the key to your lab last night?” Yumeno furrowed her brows as she swallowed some miso soup.

Angie giggled. “Angie means what Angie means! The green bear ate the key, saying it could assist in a murder. So now nobody can lock Angie’s lab from the outside, but that’s okay, because Angie would only need to lock it from the inside to begin with!”

Yumeno seemed to accept this explanation; Chabashira was more skeptical. “And your lab is lockable because you need to be alone to focus on your art?”

Angie nodded. “Mhm. The Monokubs must know that Angie can only focus when she’s alone with God, and that she makes art with God. There’s two of each art tool in Angie’s lab, and they’re all Angie’s favorite tools!”

Chabashira bit her lip. “That’s… a little suspicious…”

Ouma sparkled. “Aww, that means nobody can kill you, Angie-chan!” He bit his nail in faux frustration. “Shucks, now I gotta come up with a whooole new plan…”

“O-Ouma-kun, no!” Gonta looked aghast. “You’re not really going to kill a friend! Please don’t joke about that!”

Angie clapped excitedly. “Nyahaha! That just means God is on Angie’s side!”

“First a chick who thinks she’s a witch, then another nutjob who thinks she can talk to a god,” Iruma muttered under her breath. “What next? The mastermind pops up ‘n tells us we’re on a magic pirate ship or some shit?” 

“Close,” Shirogane coughed into her elbow.

“Just ignore them if it bothers you, Iruma-san,” Kiibo murmured placatingly, getting up to put his dish away.

“Anyways!” Angie clasped her hands. “Angie did think it was suspicious, so she asked. Apparently the bears know everything about us because they wanna be our friends!”

“Gross,” Harukawa wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather be friends with someone like Ouma than friends with those… things.”

“Agreed,” Momota sighed. Shinguji made a humming noise from the side.

“Nishishi,” Ouma giggled. “I’m so loved.”

Saihara sighed, getting up to wash his dish. Everyone was still clearly suspicious of the bears and their reasons for keeping them all trapped there. Yesterday’s motive announcement didn’t do any help in terms of making them less wary.

He waved goodbye to everyone as he walked out, the first of them to do so. “I’ll be walking around, I guess? See you gu-UYS AAHH--”

Saihara tripped and fell, and the others rushed out to help him.

“Shuichi, you okay?” Momota asked in concern as Gonta and Chabashira helped him up.

Saihara nodded. “Mm.” _That’s weird… Momota-kun is fairly strong himself, so how come he didn’t… _He shook the thought out of his head. _No, I’m thinking too hard about it._

Iruma cackled, slapping her knees. “Aww, man! I fuckin’ WISH I had a phone on me, that shit was hilarious!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Iruma-san,” Kiibo chided, holding up a finger to explain. Saihara’s chest swelled, pleased that Kiibo was speaking up for him. “It deserved to be recorded as a warning to future generations. Not as funny video, but perhaps for an insurance commercial, or one of those anti-drugs campaign videos--”

_I take it back, this stupid couple wouldn’t understand sympathy if it slapped them in the face._

“A treasure chest?” Angie tilted her head. Her face lit up in recognition. “Oooh, Shuichi, this looks like the first one we found way back when!”

Saihara turned to take a good look at it. Indeed, Angie was right-- the treasure chest was exactly like the one Angie had first found. “Hm… Then maybe inside…” He opened it, and sure enough, his hunch was correct.

“A flashback light,” Yumeno said, awed.

“Should we all look at it?” Harukawa asked skeptically.

“If we do, then I suggest we all go to the gym,” Shinguji combed his bandaged fingers through his hair. “Since that is what we all did the first time…”

Everyone looked at each other. A silent agreement.

They went, flashback light in hand.

=

In the end, the flashback light had memories relating to them all attending their own funerals. Or something like that? Nobody got headaches from it, and the whole scenario was too weird or vague to even properly think of it as a recovered memory.

“It’s gotta be fake!” Momota reasoned determinedly, pleased that all eyes were on him. He chuckled awkwardly. “C’mon guys, let’s be reasonable here. If we had funerals, we’d be dead. And we’re all alive here, so… that has to be fake.”

He paused, a bit worried that his facade would be seen through. Then, Harukawa spoke.

“Momota’s right,” she sighed, and despite the blood in his lungs and the phlegm threatening to rise in his throat, Momota felt relieved. “This whole thing is stupid. Let’s forget the flashback light for now and go back to whatever we were doing.”

_Thank god._ Everyone seemed much more at ease knowing that the flashback light was fake, chatting as they left the gym. Momota gave himself a mental pat on the back.

Even if he was sick, there was no need for any of the others to know. That would just make them focus on his weaknesses, and he refused to let himself be scrutinized like that. If they knew he was weak, they’d know he wasn’t perfect. They’d know he wasn’t the leader he pretended to be. They’d know he wasn’t a true hero like Akamatsu.

For the sake of keeping things together, Momota would be their new leader now. He’d be the one to lift them up when they were worried or scared. He’d be the savior that Akamatsu couldn’t be...

Momota took in a shallow breath, deciding to peruse the library again._While they’re all relieved from my bullshit speech, I need to find out more about whatever disease I caught._

He searched all day that day and the next, to no avail-- though there was a rather helpful book titled_ ‘How To Hide Injuries and Illnesses From Your Loved Ones: An Online Guide Now In Print’ _by some strange author named Anonymous Tsu and edited by Anonymous Tsu_2.

It was weird, but for now, it was all Momota had.

Nighttime was arguably worse-- his excuses for not doing the pushups with Harukawa and Saihara were wearing thin. “Sidekicks gotta train more than the heroes!” he grinned for the nth time.

“You’re like a gym teacher,” Saihara raised a brow, now equally as unimpressed as Harukawa by the excuse. “Tells the students to do X amount of exercise, then sits down on a lawn chair with a magazine while we sweat to death.”

“What kind of magazine?” Momota pressed. “I only prefer space tech magazines and Spla-Teen Vogue.”

“You like _tabloids?”_ Harukawa wrinkled her nose. “That’s pretty trashy.” She looked him up and down, then snorted. “But I guess it explains your shit fashion sense.”

“H-Hey, it’s not like I had a choice with these clothes! They’re the only thing in my wardrobe in this stupid place--”

Saihara looked vaguely disappointed, like he knew Momota was just changing the subject to avoid talking about how weird he was acting. He always made that face, but usually, Saihara never actually called him out, so Momota ignored it. 

Tonight was a different story.

“Momota-kun,” Saihara interrupted, licking his lips. “Why are you--”

_Shit, he’s gonna bring it up. Think fast--!_

“Hold it there, Shuichi,” Momota interrupted him right back, holding up a hand. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been listening and thinkin’ for a while…” He looked at both Saihara and Harukawa. “We’ve been friends a decent while now. All three of us. We’re close ‘n all, and we exercise pretty much every day together. I already call you both by your first names or a nickname. Why don’t we _all_ call each other by our first names?”

Saihara and Harukawa both reddened. “H-Huh?”

_Jackpot. Crisis averted. Thank god for stupid ol’ Japanese modesty…_

Momota grinned at them, slightly shifting his arms so that they covered up his quivering chest. “C’mon, Shuichi, we’ve been buds for weeks! You can call me Kaito, right? And you can call Harukawa ‘Maki’.” He turned to Harukawa, beaming just as brightly. “And same to you, Harumaki! You can call Shuichi ‘Shuichi’ and me ‘Kaito’, right?”

The two of them opened and closed their gaping mouths like fish, Saihara stammering and motioning like he was trying to pull his hat over his eyes (which proceeded to make him more flustered) and Harukawa looking to the side, pulling her long ponytails over her face and wringing them.

_Oh man, they’re both stupid cute… I was just tryin’ ta divert their attention, but this is actually pretty funny. _“Heeeey, it’s just my name, y’all don’t gotta get that embarrassed about it!” Momota laughed. He didn’t laugh for long, just in case a cough started up, but he allowed himself to laugh just a little bit.

“D-Don’t be ridiculous,” Harukawa scoffed. “I’m not embarrassed, K--” she bit her tongue, clearly somehow nervous. “Kaito…”

Saihara coughed, and somewhere in that cough Momota vaguely caught the word _‘tsundere’._ Harukawa elbowed Saihara in the side, hard, causing the other boy to yelp out in pain. “OW!”

“Shut the _fuck _up, _Shuichi,”_ Harukawa hissed back. “Do you wanna die?”

“No, Haruka--” Saihara caught Momota’s eye, and then looked away. “M-Maki.”

“Say it a few more times, get used to it!” Momota egged the two of them on.

Harukawa reluctantly set aside her annoyance with Saihara and tested the names out. “K-Kai...to. Kaito. Shuichi…?” She wrinkled her nose. “It feels weird, but…”

“Kaito, Maki,” Saihara said, surprisingly not as awkward about it. “Kaito and Maki… It feels weird, but also not bad, I guess?”

“Shuichi,” Harukawa repeated. “Kaito.” She looked up at both of them. “Kaitotally stupid.”

“H-Hey, don’t turn it into an insult right off the bat!” Momota stuttered indignantly as Saihara giggled.

“Joking, Kaito,” Harukawa sighed. She smiled.

“See!” Momota grinned. “Feels like we’re closer friends now, don’t it?”

“Yeah…” Saihara smiled too, seeming to have forgotten both the pain of Maki’s elbow and the worry from Momota’s lack of recent participation in training. “You’re right… Kaito.”

Thus that night’s training came and went without a hitch. Harukawa and Saihara went back to the dorm rooms closer than before, and even though Momota was still experiencing increasingly worse pain, he was being a good leader.

_I’ll continue hiding it, _Momota decided. _For the sake of getting them to smile like that all the time… For the sake of letting them be at ease. A long as I can lead everyone like this, and be the hero my friends need me to be…_

_...I can sacrifice my health just a little while longer._

=

It was late at night-- at least one in the morning. Angie’s lab was unlocked, which meant that she wasn’t inside working on anything.

Ouma knew this, naturally-- he’d been there when her lab had first opened. But part of him was mildly disappointed he wouldn’t be able to pick any locks. He’d been sorta starved from that kind of stimulation ever since he’d finished exploring the academy. _A sliding lock and a normal lock… The normal one can be easily unlocked with my usual tools, but the sliding one would need tape and wire and string and such… Man, that would be fun to do._

But he wasn’t here for fun. Right now, Ouma was on a serious mission.

_That stupid concrete wall in front of Rantaro’s lab is the main thing blocking me from finding whatever it is he left behind. I could blow it up with one of Harukawa’s weapons, but then everyone would hear-- fifth floor aside, anyone would hear an explosion no matter where they were in a closed cage like this. Ditto with having Iruma invent me something. On top of my requests already, it’ll just take her too long._

_But now that Angie’s lab is open, things are different._

He smiled quietly and smugly to himself as he slipped into Angie’s lab, the door sounding a barely audible_ ‘click’ _as he closed it behind him.

Ouma looked around. Angie had already taken out art supplies, clearly having set them about to work on something later. There was two of everything set out-- probably one for her and one for her god, symbolically.

Ouma wrinkled his nose. _Ugh, I hate religion._

But whatever! He could think about how much he hated religious groups later. The chisel he was looking for was right in front of him. He slipped it into his pocket and turned to leave, when--

“God doesn’t like thievery, Kokichi.”

_FUCK--_

“What’s up, Angie-chan?” Ouma asked casually, acting like he knew she’d been there the whole time. _This creep purposely hid in here while keeping the doors unlocked just to catch someone--!_

“You could’ve asked Angie for the chisel instead of fostering ill-will by stealing,” Angie sighed. 

_“Stealing?”_ Ouma gaped, feigning shock and hurt. “Well, I_ never!_ The absolute nerve! I’ll have you know, Angie-chan, I don’t like such accusations! Heavens, no. I was merely_ borrowing_ this lovely chisel and hammer set.”

Angie smiled like a kindergarten teacher pretending to believe a forged parent signature scrawled in crayon. “Uh huh.”

“Honest,” Ouma dramatically placed a hand over his heart, crossing it. “I swear on your god.”

“If you swear on God,” Angie’s eyes twinkled mischievously, “maybe you’d be interested in joining Angie’s new Student Council?”

_This is new._ “Hmmm? Oooh, what’s that?” Ouma asked curiously.

“Angie got back from forming it with a few of the others,” she nodded sagely. “In Himiko’s lab, that is. Angie’s the head. Other officers are Himiko, Tenko, Kiibo, and Tsumugi. All of us are disciples of God now! Angie’s gonna announce it to the others tomorrow morning, so maybe we’ll have more members later on~”

_‘Student Council’? This is a fucking cult. Knowing Angie’s reverence towards her god, this is absolutely gonna become a cult soon. _Ouma physically willed his blood pressure to go down before he popped a vessel in irritation. His experience with cults, limited though it was… wasn’t the best.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on Ouma. But regardless, there was a reason he was called the Ultimate _Supreme Leader_ instead of the Ultimate_ Dictator. _He could manipulate people to move how he wanted without focusing their attention on his real goals. Angie and her new cult… likely would not be able to do the same.

Angie must’ve taken his lengthy silence for a ‘no’, because she sighed disappointedly. “Aww, what a shame. You would’ve been a good asset, Kokichi,” Angie hummed. “But if you really don’t wanna join, it’s alright. Angie doesn’t think you’re the type to murder anyway, even if you’re a free agent.”

_Ah, so this cult is to prevent people from murdering others anymore…Well. I can respect that much._ Ouma raised a brow, grinning. “Oh? What makes you think that?” He put a finger over his mouth, calculating. “I could manipulate anyone I wanted.”

“Don’t kill. Don’t die.” Angie smiled. “That’s how you and your organization operate, riiiight?” 

Ouma froze, brain screeching to a halt. _How the fuck does she--_

Angie giggled, spinning around in a circle. “You’re self-sacrificial. You wouldn’t have told everyone that you were going to your room alone with the door unlocked back after we all tried the Death Road--” she shivered, possibly remembering something-- “--unless you wanted someone to kill you to end the game.” Angie continued smiling, and the dissonance between her words and her face struck a chord in Ouma. “You antagonize yourself to separate yourself from the others, right, Kokichi? Ryouma was the same, trying to sacrifice himself and act like he didn’t matter as a person. The only difference between you two is that Ryouma actually died.”

_Stay calm. You’re cool and chill. Why would you be angry? Everything Angie’s saying is just her own lie. _Ouma chuckled, blood pressure spiking again despite the mental pep talk. “Wooooow… you’re sharper than you look.”

Angie grinned. “You act like an annoying, insensitive clown, Kokichi, but you’re the only one Angie sees actually working on a plan. Well, Korekiyo is collecting some data on his own, and Shuichi looks like he thinks a lot, and Miu works on her inventions, but...”

“Whatever,” Ouma interrupted, still irritated that this artist girl had somehow managed to read his entire personality and hand his ass back to him in one breath. “The main point here is… I’m not giving back this chisel. I need it for some… personal tasks.”

Angie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Angie said so before, right? She has a double pair of every art supply. There’s still a chisel she can use.”

Ouma deflated, but still looked at her with a cautious grin. “Oh? Then what was the point of confronting me here?”

Angie’s smile fell, and she looked more serious. “... Angie wasn’t actually waiting for you in particular, Kokichi. She thought a certain someone else would try to confront her, after the Student Council formation meeting.”

Ouma mentally rifled through the names Angie had mentioned earlier before coming across one that made slightly less sense than the other three. “Chabashira-chan?”

Angie giggled. “Bingoooo! Tenko can be nice if she tries, but she doesn’t like Angie very much. Angie didn’t think she’d readily join, even if it was for Himiko’s sake, but she did.”

Ouma let out a small whistle, toying with the chisel in his hands. “So you think she joined just to protect Yumeno-chan, and you don’t think she’s serious about being a follower of God?”

Angie shrugged. “Angie doesn’t like doubting God’s disciples, but it’s not a possibility Angie can get rid of just yet.”

_She’s way smarter than she looks. I’m impressed, but also almost disappointed that I didn’t realize it sooner. Goddamn._

“Well!” Ouma grinned as he looked at the clock in the corner of the lab, deciding that he really had to go if it was already nearing half past one. “Good luck with your cult, Angie-chan!” He winked, making his way back to the door. “I’ll return the chisel to you when I’m finished with my little project. Bye-bye!”

“Good luck with your plans too, Kokichi~” Angie waved enthusiastically. “Bye-onara!”

The door shut, and Ouma sighed.

_I really need to stop underestimating these assholes. They’re not stupid. They’re dangerous. It’s not that I can’t trust them because they’re dumb; I can’t trust them because some of them are a lot smarter than they look._

He crept past the blocked stairs, making his way to the fifth floor where Amami’s lab was. The concrete wall from earlier was still there.

_If I can’t explode this wall away, I’ll have to chisel it down, little by little._

Ouma set out to work, chipping away the block little by little. He wasn’t an artist or a sculptor by any means, though, so it took him a while to figure out how to properly do it without accidentally stabbing himself.

He managed to chip apart a few bits of the block before he was caught.

“I T-H-O-U-G-H-T I T-O-L-D Y-O-U T-O S-T-A-Y A-W-A-Y F-R-O-M H-E-R-E,” Monodam beeped angrily. “T-H-I-S F-L-O-O-R I-S S-T-I-L-L O-F-F L-I-M-I-T-S. Y-O-U A-R-E D-A-M-A-G-I-N-G S-C-H-O-O-L P-R-O-P-E-R-T-Y.”

Ouma nearly dropped the chisel. “Ahaha, what are you talking about? I’m just admiring the view.” He turned around, humming merrily as he stared straight into the concrete wall, counting the little specks of glitter at his eye level. “Gotta love that concrete scenery. I’m such a sucker for that white-ish gray color.”

Monodam’s eyes turned bright red. “I-F Y-O-U D-O T-H-I-S A-G-A-I-N, T-H-E-N I-T-’-S D-E-A-T-H B-Y E-X-I-S-A-L F-O-R Y-O-U, O-U-M-A.”

Ouma winced. He pocketed the chisel, turning round on his heel to go back to his dorm room. No need to be asked to do it. He knew the bears wouldn’t skimp on their threats; he didn’t want to risk it. He opened the door and closed it behind him, letting out a breath of relief that he wasn’t just killed on the way back.

Rather than return the chisel, Ouma decided to keep it with all the other stuff in his dorm room. He tossed it into one of the boxes on the floor, changing into night clothes and deciding to go to bed a bit earlier. He didn’t want to talk to Angie again tonight-- he’d keep the chisel for a while. And then maybe after this whole cult thing died down...

_Right, the cult. _Ouma wondered how Angie seemed to have the same idea as himself regarding stopping the killing game-- it was admirable, and though Angie was rather creepy, she definitely cared enough if she was going through with her plan. 

_Though personally, I don’t think she’s as good at exerting psychological control as a leader, _Ouma mused. _Since it’s more obvious that there are going to be people who hate her regime-- Chabashira is already an example, but I can already see people like Iruma, Shinguji, Harukawa, and Momota not agreeing with it._

_What would Saihara think? _he wondered._ He’s on the side of justice and truth, usually, so I’d like to assume he’d be against the cult, but he’s so quiet and neutral outside of trials, it’s hard to tell…_

The scent of antiseptic filled Ouma’s nostrils again; he decided to think of the intriguing boy later.

Perhaps it’d be easier to think of those who’d be most susceptible to the cult rather than those who’d be against it. Ouma could definitely picture Gonta falling for Angie’s lilting phrases and coy yet devoted belief in her god. The thought made him feel oddly irritated.

_But aside from the people who aren’t in the cult yet… The people who are in it are the ones I’ve gotta watch the most. Yumeno, Shirogane, and Kiibo… but especially Chabashira._

Ouma turned off the lights and maneuvered his way into the bed, instinctively avoiding the mess on the floor. He pulled the covers over himself and thought.

_It’s inevitable with cults. Even if people do follow the leader blindly, there will always be people who want to escape. They’ll work against the tide. No matter how much trauma it caused Mom, or how paranoid and sick she ended up, if even she managed to escape a twisted cult…_

Ouma slowly closed his eyes, determined.

_...then I have to get out of here, too._

=

It was when Angie found yet another flashback light the next morning that she finally decided her hunch from earlier was right.

_These things… cannot be trusted. Whether Angie gets flashes of God’s voice from them or not, she cannot trust them. There was the Ultimate Hunt one… which gave everyone headaches. The motive videos too, to an extent… but this latest one didn’t at all._

_Kaito was right-- the contents didn’t make sense. Everyone was remembering more or less the same things. If these lights and videos didn’t give everyone their own personalized headaches, they have to be fake. _

_This, plus the bears saying they knew everything about us… It means that we are all being manipulated. If they know everything about us already but are choosing not to tell us, or are choosing to tell us in tidbits… we’re being manipulated. We can’t be manipulated to murder._

_Angie was right to start the Student Council. The only way we can live peacefully in this Academy… is if we ignore the memories and focus on living here without wanting escape._

So now, with everyone gathered before her again-- this time in the cafeteria at breakfast-- it was time for her to make her statement.

Angie smashed the flashback light in the ground, ignoring the surprised, shocked shrieks of her peers. Of the bears, only Monotaro was there, but he screamed just like the others, clearly not expecting Angie to do that. Despite being a Student Council member, even Shirogane looked about ready to faint.

“WH--” Momota’s eyes widened.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Iruma yelled, finishing Momota’s thought. “Those things have our memories in it, you fucking--”

“Angie-san,” Shinguji said icily, gaze stern. “You’d better have a good explanation for this act.”

“Nyahahaha!” Angie grinned. “We don’t need the flashback lights anymore! Because we’re all gonna live peacefully in the Ultimate Academy!”

“What do you mean?” Saihara narrowed his eyes.

“We can use the Necronomicon to resurrect one of the four who died, and with them we shall all live together in peace,” Angie preached. “Angie said earlier that they could be imitations of the real people we knew… but there is also the possibility that their corpses were fake to begin with. Regardless of which is true, we must all be able to put aside our differences, our missing memories, and our desires for escape, and accept our new lives here.”

“Bullshit,” Iruma spat. “You can’t bring back the dead.”

“G-Gonta actually thinks Angie-san could be right,” Gonta spoke up hesitantly. “Gonta checked the rock this morning… Remember? The one with the ‘horse A’ message?”

Everyone nodded. 

“There are more letters now,” Gonta confessed. “Now it says…” he shook his head, taking out a piece of paper from his suit pocket. “Gonta wrote it down here. You can all check later in person, if you all want.”

his or s ne

ma ich

Harukawa raised a brow. “His or snay mah itch?”

Gonta shook his head persistently. “Gonta has no clue what it says, but it isn’t the same as the horse A from before. So…” he hesitated. “Maybe Angie-san is right that the dead students weren’t really dead. M-Maybe they’re the ones sending us these letters!”

“Gonta,” Angie smiled, coming forward and bringing him to a hug. “Thank you for your efforts. God is pleased that you are working so hard to bring everyone together. You’re so helpful.”

Gonta beamed, color rising in his cheeks. “Gonta is… useful?”

Angie hummed, nodding. “Mhm. Very much so.” She pulled apart. “But you can be even more helpful in the Student Council.” She grinned. “Maybe you should join!”

Gonta nodded eagerly. “Yes! Gonta wants to be useful to his friends!”

“Student Council?” Saihara asked, confused. “What…”

Angie’s grin practically split her face. “Yup! Angie’s Student Council! We are devoted to God and to protecting this academy’s peaceful life. Angie is the president. Officers so far are Himiko, Tenko, Tsumugi, Kiibo, and our newest addition, Gonta!”

“Kiibo?!” Iruma shrieked, dismayed. “Why the fuck would you join something like that?!”

Kiibo shifted. “Angie-san called us over yesterday night… She had an idea to stop the game, and this was it.” He puffed up his chest. “I’m sorry, Iruma-san, but if it’s for the sake of ending the game, I’ll put aside my qualms and help!”

“Aaahh, there’s so many other things that would’ve done that though,” Iruma agonized aloud. “Not some fucking cult… Y’know what this’ll end up as? One of those creepy sex cults! Where they all go off to some island and revere the president as their idol of--”

“Don’t sexualize Angie when she’s right in front of you,” Angie smiled serenely-- yet there was a clear, distinct threat in her toothy smile.

“Eek!”

“Don’t dismiss organized religion either, Iruma-san,” Shinguji sighed, rubbing his temple in annoyance. “Though I must agree, something like a student council in a place where there are only twelve of us isolated individuals in a closed space like this cage… is bound to lead to cult-like organization.”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno furrowed her brows. “Angie isn’t wrong! If we all let ourselves become followers of her god and just live peacefully, we won’t have to deal with this murder stuff!”

“I-- I agree!” Chabashira piped up, seemingly more hesitant than she’d ever been before. “Yumeno-san is right!”

“So do I,” Shirogane sighed. “Angie-san said she trusted me and the others. I-I’m pretty plain, but I’ll do my best!”

“And there you have it,” Angie smiled. “We are the Student Council. In order to preserve the peace, we shall be implementing new rules throughout the academy and enforcing them strictly. If you are not in the council, you will not have certain rights.” She beamed. “Join us! Angie will be preparing for the resurrection ritual soon, so the sooner you join, the more fun and peace we can have together!”

She left it at that. “Come, Council. We must go deliberate the new rules with God to guide us…”

The councilmembers followed Angie out of the cafeteria.

_Good,_ Angie decided as her new fellow councilmembers trailed behind her. _This way, the academy will be better off._

_Even if Angie has to act more villainous… If it’s to help, she doesn’t mind._

=

_I knew Gonta would want to join, but I’m still pissed about it. _Ouma sighed, finally taking his gaze off of his own nails. He hadn’t said a word throughout the whole ordeal. Student Council announcement aside, he hadn’t been expecting Angie to smash the flashback light. It was a bold move.

(Whether or not it was a stupid move had yet to be seen.)

“Fuckin’ hippie bitch,” Iruma sneered. “They’re all brainwashed!”

“I’d say she’s more like a cop,” Harukawa clicked her tongue. “And all of her so-called followers are bootlickers. What was that shit at the end? If you’re not in the council, you won’t have certain rights? That’s ridiculous.”

“She’s turned into a cult leader overnight,” Shinguji shivered thoughtfully. “Though the ritual certainly interests me, I’m not at all pleased with this turn of events…”

“Who’s the real supreme leader around here, anyhow?” Momota raised a brow and turned to Ouma. “You’ve been quieter ‘n a mouse this whole time, dude.”

“Real leaders know when to shut up and watch,” Ouma sniffed in disinterest. He grinned. “Besides... Watching Angie-chan and her stupid little council crash and burn oughta be fun, right? Right?! I suuuper wanna see everyone fail!” He pouted. “Or they could succeed… but that’d be booooring.”

“I agree, Ouma-kun,” Saihara murmured quietly, attracting everyone’s attention. He looked them all carefully in the eye. “The way that Angie-san has managed to wrap half of us under her finger already… doesn’t bode well. If we want to retain whatever freedoms we had before… we’ll have to retaliate.”

Ouma exhaled. He hadn’t expected Saihara to be able to read his lies, but it was somewhat of a relief that Saihara and the rest of the others all appeared to genuinely detest the cult along with him. Of course, he’d never _say_ that to them outright-- he’d just act like the neutral clown party, as per usual.

“Is it agreed then,” Saihara said slowly, “that the six of us will all Completely Obey Everything the council says?” he quirked up the end of his lips, clearly signifying that he meant the exact opposite. “Malicious compliance or complete ignorance, whichever one you’d all like to go with.”

_Ouogerwhjjlkfdslkh he’s so cool,_ Ouma’s brain turned to mush for a split second. _Or hot, I can’t tell._

Momota grinned, holding out a fist. “Fuck yeah, sidekick. We’re stickin’ it to ‘em.”

Saihara placed his fist against Momota’s. Harukawa smiled all the same, returning the group fistbump. “Good idea, Shuichi,” she said coolly. “I think I’d like that.”

_Wait. What? ‘Shuichi’? Assassin girl called Saihara by his first name? That cold-blooded murderer calls him ‘Shuichi’?_ The jealousy pricked his head and filled his nostrils with the scent of antiseptic all over again; Ouma wrinkled his nose. _Fuck, why am I--_

Iruma and Shinguji also returned the fistbump-- Iruma with a shit-eating grin, and Shinguji with his eyes narrowed sadistically. “Let us all preserve our individual rights within this academy,” Shinguji declared.

Ouma nonchalantly placed his hands behind his head instead of putting in a fist and joining the circle. 

Saihara’s eyes widened, a little surprised. “Are you not joining us, Ouma-kun?”

_I think I’m in love with him,_ Ouma thought at last._ Why else would I get these headaches every time he does something ordinary like look at me slightly different, or talk to me like he actually cares? Why else would I get these weird pangs of jealousy when someone else I dislike does something as simple as calling him by name?_

Instead, he hummed, grinning cheekily despite his face coloring a bit. “I’m a leader, so I won’t join one side, exactly. I’ll stay neutral and observe for now…” he moved a hand to the side of his mouth, clearly trying to be hush-hush about his next few words. “...but for the most part, I’ll probably be on you guys’ side.”

Saihara looked a bit more relieved at that. “We’ll be off doing our own things, but… I look forward to having you on our side, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma beamed at him._ And I look forward to lying to you about this goddamn crush._

The fistbump circle dispersed. It wasn’t a formal group, per se… but all of them had a new mission in mind now.

=

Ouma hummed, grinning cheekily. “I’m a leader, so I won’t join one side, exactly. I’ll stay neutral and observe for now…” he moved a hand to the side of his mouth, clearly trying to be hush-hush about his next few words. “...but for the most part, I’ll probably be on you guys’ side.”

Gonta clapped excitedly. “Gonta’s so glad you’re with us in the Council, Ouma-kun! Thank you for coming to our meeting and joining so quickly! Gonta knew you’d have faith in us!”

Angie nodded serenely. “Angie’s glad you changed your mind too, Kokichi. The more allies we have, the more we can spread God’s word and peace amongst this haven.”

Kiibo narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure we can trust him…?”

Chabashira smacked Kiibo. “No doubt and distrust while we’re part of the Student Council! We’re here for peace!”

Yumeno scowled. “Yeah, Tenko. And that means no violence like smacking people either.” She sighed. “Can we get back to talking about the ritual, Angie?”

Chabashira had the decency to look sheepish.

Shirogane smiled. “Y-Yeah, Ouma-kun. The more the merrier! And with God, you’ll never go wrong.”

_I’m sure my mom was taught the same by the cult that raised her, _Ouma thought in disgust. On the outside, he grinned. “I’ll be a secret agent, quietly convincing the skeptics. Kay? I’ll be off now~!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Shirogane’s glasses gleamed. “I’m doing something similar.”

Something clinked in Angie’s pocket as she walked to the door. Ouma froze for a split second, hyperaware of the noise. _Metal?_

“Angie will prepare for the ritual for the rest of the afternoon and throughout all of the night. We will do the ritual first thing tomorrow. The rest of you either spread the word of our god and His peace, or make sure nobody’s breaking the rules. The biggest rule is that nobody is allowed to be awake during nighttime.” Angie grinned. “Student Council meeting adjourned!”

“Ouma-kun!” Gonta latched onto him happily as they walked out. “We can be council members together!”

“Yeah! I’m sooo excited!” Ouma grinned with matching enthusiasm. _Ugh, kill me. _He gave a quick glance at the other four. 

Yumeno followed Angie happily. Shirogane was getting up-- probably to do that thing she mentioned, right? Convincing people to join. The mental image made Ouma want to laugh-- picturing a plain girl trying really hard to hand out fliers and give out information to others, yet nobody around her pays her any attention… 

Kiibo looked ready to patrol and berate people for the clearly terrible crimes of robophobia, loitering, or chewing gum with your mouth open. _Cop,_ Ouma thought, simultaneously pleased that his assessment of Kiibo had been right all along and disgusted that Kiibo would actually join such an organization.

_Most worthy of keeping an eye on is Chabashira, _Ouma decided. She looked torn between being there for Yumeno and adhering to her own internal values-- clearly, she thought Angie was going too far.

It’d be interesting to watch her.

=

_Angie-san is going too far. A Student Council centered around that phony god of hers is one thing, but… dragging Yumeno-san and the others into something like this is unforgivable._

Chabashira bit her lip, thinking of the other students who were all against this organization-- Harukawa, Iruma, Momota, Saihara, Shinguji. They would be her only allies in a time and place like this. 

_The aikido I know and love may be peaceful, but this kind of situation relies more on the mind than on the body._ _I’ll need an actual plan to go further-- and with their help, I’ll be able to come up with a smart way to convince Angie to stop this. The ritual, the council-- all of it._

_More than anything, I refuse to let Angie’s tyranny continue any longer than it has to. I refuse to let her manipulate the people I love any further!_

_This. Means. War._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that was. somewhat fun? at least? lmao. i think i'm getting more and more in the groove of writing. the further into V3 we go, the more easy i find it to write.
> 
> Ouma and Angie's similarities strike me as intriguing. Of course, I love Kaito and Ouma's dichotomy the most, but I wish the game had at least touched upon how similar Angie is to Ouma. They really are. They ought to have interacted more in canon...
> 
> I also think that it would be nice to see some more cliques form, even if it's temporary. I know most of the people who were anti-cult were fairly introverted and individualistic, but still. can you imagine how funny it would've been for them to turn the whole thing into a Wow I Hate The Student Council Solidarity Club? iconic.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading!


	21. 3-3. A Godless World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The training trio talks and remembers a bit.
> 
> Fourth floor friends and freaks alike fight-- some more violently than others.
> 
> God says goodbye to Saishu Academy, and won't return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for creepy imagery, REALLY graphic depiction of violence, and major character death in the latter half of the chapter. **I seriously mean it. This chapter's death is among the most graphic in the fic thus far, and if you are young or otherwise adversely affected by violence or psychological horror, I strongly recommend skipping over the section.**
> 
> It differs from canon slightly in a way that will impact the trial, so I'm really unsure as to where a good place to skip to/from would be. My best attempt would be from "Thudding, wild footsteps" to "His own heavy breathing" in the next POV. There will still be a few mentions of blood after that, but it's really hard otherwise without missing even more plot elements.
> 
> I hope you'll all believe me when I say that I do genuinely love Angie and Shinguji. I love their characters a lot, and I know that canon did them dirty, both with the lack of plot relevance and the last-minute inc*stuous serial killer stuff respectively. This is a rewrite and all, but unfortunately, canon doesn't quite diverge here. Not entirely...
> 
> I feel like I'm overexplaining myself because I just feel bad for what I've done to these two ;;; and I know there's really nothing to justify it aside from _'I wanted it to happen this way if it had to happen at all'._ I do apologize to everyone who related to them or loved seeing them in the fic-- I've read a lot of your comments that mentioned that, and even though I'd planned this from the start, it made me feel surprisingly guilty while actually writing it out, ahaha. All of that being said, I hope this chapter will be an emotional read, even if it isn't necessarily enjoyable.
> 
> Let's get to it.

The following day was, to an extent, war. If petty disobedience and passive-aggressive staring contests could be called “war”.

The fact of the matter was, the Student Council just didn’t have that much to do in terms of law enforcement. Any rules they came up with were banal at best, and enforcement was shoddy thanks to Yumeno constantly sleeping on the job, Shirogane being a pushover, Chabashira clearly not actually caring about Angie’s god or the council itself, and Kiibo being wishy-washy despite his otherwise clear moral views. Gonta appeared to be the only one aside from Angie who did his job diligently.

It made Ouma want to laugh.

Even with all of its incompetent, bumbling members though, Angie’s Student Council was oddly devoted to her and her views. _It’s probably because she’s made it clear to them she wants to end the game… but sheesh, revering everything she says and does isn’t the way to do it. If I ran DICE like that, they would’ve turned on me in a heartbeat, oldest brother status be damned._

Most of the others who were against the council were still wary about them-- clearly thinking of them as a real and viable threat. So much so that two of them, Iruma and Shinguji, stayed in their labs pretty much the whole day. 

Ouma sighed. _Guess this double agent gig ended up being boring after all… sucks._

_But at the very least, it gives me more time to think about my own plans._

=

Saihara was surprised to hear his doorbell ringing incessantly that night. Not a lot had happened that day, aside from the Student Council acting cliquey. 

_It’s been a long time since Kaito rang my doorbell like that,_ Saihara thought, getting up to open the door. _Kaito._ He smiled to himself, irrationally pleased that he was getting used to calling the other boy by his given name.

Momota stood by the door valiantly with Harukawa in tow. “Sup, Shuichi,” Momota breathed, looking left and right. 

_Kaito’s never this wary._ Instantly, Saihara was on alert. “Is something wrong?”

“Apparently the StuCo’s actually taking the nighttime curfew shit seriously,” Momota whispered. “But as your leader, I refuse to let them impede on our freedom, and so on and so forth.”

Saihara felt a headache swimming in his head. “The… Student Council?” He tried to shove the feeling away, but it persisted.

Harukawa nodded, rubbing her temple. “Gonta’s being really picky with the people who stay up past the times Angie decided,” she sighed.

Saihara blinked. “Okay, so?”

“So we’re sneaking out for training,” Momota grinned. “Although…” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “They might hear us or see us if we’re doing exercise, so I was thinking we could just chat a bit tonight. Stay still and lie low, y’know?”

_It’s a valid thought, but part of me can’t shake the feeling that he’s just using that as an excuse to not do exercise again..._

“Are you with us, Shuichi?” Harukawa raised a brow.

Saihara smiled. “Of course,” he nodded. “Just gimme a second…” He took his gakuran off and tossed it onto his bed, closing his dorm room door behind him. “Sneaking off… isn’t something I’m used to.”

“What, really?” Momota snorted as they walked. “Damn, you really are a goody-goody.”

Saihara frowned. “Not true. Just because I don’t sneak off doesn’t mean I’m a goody-goody...”

Harukawa scoffed alongside Momota. “The worst you’ve ever done is probably wearing mismatched socks to school.”

“Actually, I’ve shoplifted before,” Saihara said, unflinching.

“Huh?!” Momota and Harukawa both whirled around. Harukawa’s surprise immediately turned into a deadpan stare. “You’re lying.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Saihara said innocently. “I’ve shoplifted before while I was acting in one of my parents’ movies. The director let me be an uncredited extra since my parents brought me on set. I played an unruly toddler who ran off with a pair of sunglasses. It was the truth.”

Momota burst into laughter. “Oh man, you really got us there--”

Harukawa slapped his arm, trying to shush him. “Be quiet, we’re not outside yet--”

“HALT!” Gonta crossed his arms in front of them, blocking the door. “None of you may pass. It’s past nighttime! Nobody is allowed out past nighttime according to the student council rules!”

Momota stood in front of Gonta with his chin up and his stance wide, like a tame pet dog trying to assert dominance in front of a wolf. “Oh, yeah?”

Gonta frowned. “Yes. All of you must go sleep!”

“What about you, then?” Momota challenged. “How come the rest of the student council doesn’t gotta do that?”

Gonta blinked, then furrowed his brows in confusion, as if he was trying to calculate something completely incomprehensible. At last, he must have decided the paradox was too much, because he shrugged. “Gonta doesn’t know.”

“Then that’s not fair, right?” Momota pressed with a smile. “It’s not fair that we gotta sleep and you get to stay awake. Let us out a little, alright? We’re all friends here, and it’s not like all three of us are gonna be schemin’ somethin’.”

Gonta bit his lip, then smiled. “Okay! You three have fun and be safe! And then definitely go to bed, okay?”

“Yup,” Harukawa waved. “You, too.”

“Thanks, buddy!” Momota beamed.

“Ah, tell Kiibo-kun and Iruma-san to come back soon!” Gonta yelled. “Kiibo-kun ignored his nighttime patrol to spend time with her, and they might catch colds if they stay out long!”

“Will do!” Momota saluted him.

The three of them walked out to their usual spot. “So are we really not doing the pushups?” Saihara asked. _I was actually kinda looking forward to exercising..._

Momota gaped. Then, his eyes sparkled. “Shuichi! You really wanna exercise?! I knew training would make you like it! ”

“Mmh,” Saihara acknowledged. “Mostly, I just don’t want to lose practice… I’m actually getting somewhat stronger than I was before thanks to it.”

“You can do it if you want!” Momota insisted. “But Harumaki ‘n I’ll be chillin’ and talkin’.”

Saihara attempted the pushups and gave up after about forty, because Harukawa and Momota were not “talkin’”, they were staring at him and waiting for him to finish and it was too damn awkward to continue.

“So,” Saihara wiped the sweat on his face with his button-up shirt collar. “Talking? What are we talking about?”

“About…” Momota began. A beat. “Ourselves?” 

Saihara gave Momota a deadpan stare. _You came up with that one on the spot, huh…_

“Harumaki!” Momota exclaimed cheerfully, almost as if he’d sensed Saihara’s displeased, silent observation. “Why don’t we talk about yourselves? Like your talent, or your past, or your family, or something funny.”

“What if I told a scary story,” Harukawa said. _And then there’s Maki,_ Saihara thought. _Why would you tell us a scary story at a time like this..._

“P-Please don’t,” Momota shivered, suddenly sweating like crazy. “You know I don’t do well ‘round supernatural shit…”

“It’s not supernatural,” Harukawa scowled, toying with her ponytails. “It’s… something that happened in the past. Scary in a realistic way… at least, that’s how it felt back then...”

Nonetheless, it piqued Saihara’s curiosity. “Go on,” he urged. “I’d… I’d like to hear it, Maki. If you don’t mind.”

Harukawa paused. Then, she began: “I’m an orphan. The reason I became an assassin… was because the orphanage I was brought up in was actually a front for a religious cult that raised child assassins and did other black market dealings.”

Momota looked somewhat outraged. Saihara grimaced. “What… what was this cult’s name?”

“The Holy Salvation Society,” Harukawa rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Pretentious asses.”

“Ah--” Saihara slapped his forehead, letting out a small hiss. _Why… Why am I getting a headache…?_

“But that’s just backdrop for the actual story,” Harukawa sighed. “Ready for it?”

Saihara shoved his pain aside, nodding alongside Momota.

“To summarize, I had an assignment to kill someone when they went to a crowded area. The weapon I was supposed to use was a katana…” Harukawa grimaced, then began twisting her ponytails agitatedly. “But apparently, an anime convention was being held nearby, because people mistook me for a cosplayer since I had the schoolgirl outfit and the sword, and they all started swarming me and asking for pictures…”

_“Pfft--!”_

"K-Kaito, stop laughing at her," Saihara giggled. 

“I can’t,” Momota wheezed. “That’s super cute…” Harukawa glared.

"Oh, knock it off, both of you," she scoffed-- but even she was fighting back a smile. “It was life or death back then, I could’ve been eliminated if I’d failed or blown my cover…” Harukawa paused. “But I suppose now that I’m saying it out loud it does seem a little bit ridiculous...”

Momota and Saihara nodded, still giggling uncontrollably into their fists.

“Either way…” Harukawa rolled her eyes. “Come on. As if _you_ haven't been humiliated solving a case somehow, Shuichi."

It was uncomfortably true. The whole reason behind why Saihara wore his hat was one thing... but that wasn't quite so humorous. "Hmm," Saihara tried to think of all the cases he'd solved. "No, there really isn't. I’ve had scary or serious moments, but nothing particularly humiliating, I guess… Unless you mean acting work with my parents…”

“Hey, yeah,” Momota interrupted. “You mentioned your parents taking you to a set or somethin’?”

Saihara blinked. “Did… Did I not mention that my parents are famous?”

Momota’s eyes turned wide as saucers, jaw dropping. “No! You didn’t!” He hooked an arm around Saihara’s shoulder, exaggeratedly shaking him around. “Tell me! Tell me everything! Your parents are _famous?_ What do they do?!”

“Okay, okay,” Saihara fought back a smile, taking Momota’s arm off of him. _Even if it’s Kaito and Maki rather than Kaede, talking about my parents is still awkward…_ “I… my parents are an actor and a screenwriter respectively. Have you heard of Saihara Sayuri and Shunpei before?”

“Nope,” Harukawa shook her head. “The cult outlawed most media, and even after all of this, I don’t really watch movies, so…”

“Ah… Well, they’ve done quite a few movies by now, but they started when I was younger, so I got invited to sets when I was a toddler and all,” Saihara placed a finger on his chin, remembering his childhood. “I moved in with my uncle and aunt later in elementary school after my parents’ careers took off...”

Momota let out a noise akin to a tea kettle. “No fuckin’ way. I can’t believe your parents are in _show biz._ You’re total opposites!”

“Yes way,” Saihara sighed. “I don’t like lying. I can’t even tell excessive lies anyway, I get sick if I do...”

Momota paused, gaze softening for a moment. “Sick, huh…” He smiled. “Don’t overdo it then, if you ever lie.” He puffed up his chest. “Not that you would, of course! You’re my sidekick, and we’re heroes who fight for the truth!”

“I can tell lies every now and then,” Saihara admitted. “Like… trials.”

Harukawa pressed her lips together. “Thanks for that, by the way. I know you idiots didn’t see anything about the exchange, but… it helped.”

“Yeah, I had _no_ clue he was gonna spring that on me,” Momota confessed. “Freaked me out for a sec there.”

“Sorry about that,” Saihara grimaced. “But it helped us get to the truth…” he trailed off.

“On another note… what kind of sick do you even get when you lie a lot at once?” Harukawa asked. “Like sneezing sick or--”

“I get super dizzy and puke,” Saihara grimaced. Harukawa and Momota both made faces; Saihara sighed. “Yeah… Even the doctors don’t know how or why it happens. My parents and some other people on the set of one movie learned that the hard way when they tried giving me an actual acting role with lots of lines… They spent ages trying to clean up the set and unclog the toilets after.”

Momota furrowed his brows. “How’d ya do school plays and stuff in primary school, then?”

“The teachers always made sure I was something like ‘Tree A’ and never had a speaking role,” Saihara bit his lip. “It’s… pretty embarrassing…” Suddenly, he really wanted to go back to talking about detective work. “But anyway. As for what you were asking earlier, Maki… My uncle did most of the investigating and solving work, so I'm sort of an amateur as a detective. Not to mention we generally handled infidelity cases, not murders..."

Momota's eyes sparkled. "You mean like nasty dramatic breakups and stuff?"

Harukawa smacked him. "He's talking about real cases, not that trashy fake tabloid shit you like."

“Oh…” Momota looked vaguely disappointed.

Saihara bit back another laugh. "Yeah... people are kinda scary when you think about the things they do for… those sorts of relationships…”

Awkward silence. 

Thankfully, Harukawa changed the subject. "So? You only ever solved relationship issues by your uncle's side?"

"Sorry, Shuichi," Momota yawned, "But that sounds boring as hell. You didn't even tackle a kidnapping or something like that? Like a disappearance?"

Saihara's head pulsed with pain; he grimaced, holding his head.

Momota raised a brow. "Did you...?"

The pain dissipated. "Wait," Saihara blinked in realization. "Now that I think about it, there was one other murder case I solved before I woke up here. I-- I don't exactly remember all of it, but..." 

"But?" Harukawa asked softly.

Saihara swallowed. "It was another detective's case. A high school boy disappeared towards the beginning of his final year at school."

"What happened to him? And how?" Harukawa pressed.

"We found out that he was murdered by one of his classmates at some point,” Saihara furrowed his brows. “I... I don't..." 

He tried so, _so_ hard to remember. The cold nighttime wind blew harshly onto his back--

\--and suddenly, he was overcome with pain. 

_ **his neck** _

** _how long has it been here_ **

** _who would do this and why_ **

** _he knew too much_ **

"His neck," Saihara's eyes widened in recognition. He took in a deep breath. "His neck had been snapped, and we found his body in some sort of cooler."

Harukawa and Momota's eyes bulged.

"I don't remember how we solved it though, or anything else aside from that," Saihara ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "If only these headaches could tell me something more _useful--"_

"No, that _is_ useful," Momota interrupted. He stretched. "It means that whichever fuckers trapped us all here intentionally tried ta get you to forget that you've solved real murder mysteries before."

"Kaito's right," Harukawa twirled a ponytail. "By getting you to forget the fucked up shit you've seen, it makes it harder for you to solve the murders happening here right now." She sighed, then gave a small smile. "But now that you remember, we have a better chance at survival if someone decides to kill again."

That... made sense. 

But at the same time, Saihara felt like that wasn't quite the case.

“Anyway, Kaito,” Harukawa nudged his shoulder, “it’s your turn to tell a story about yourself.”

Momota opened his mouth to speak-- or maybe give an excuse, Saihara really didn’t know-- when someone else came up to them.

“H-Hey, guys…”

Saihara blinked in surprise. “Chabashira-san?”

Chabashira stood awkwardly behind them. “I was wondering if you guys would help me.”

Harukawa stood up and narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Why would we help someone who aligned themselves with that batshit council?”

“I--” Chabashira poked the tips of her index fingers together sheepishly, a slight blush on her face. “I was pretending. I was worried about Yumeno-san, but I knew I had to act like I was serious about it to actually find out what Angie-san was planning.”

_Everyone here puts on an act of their own, huh,_ Saihara thought, feeling oddly fixated on those words after having shared his own past experiences. _Whether it’s to kill someone or for personal gain or even just to cope, everyone acts and pretends… Even someone like me, who can’t act for long, deludes themselves in other ways._

_All we do is close our eyes to reality with lies and platitudes..._

“What was Angie planning?” Momota stood up, wobbling a bit. _Probably because we’ve been sitting a while,_ Saihara decided. _Though it is weird…_

Chabashira sighed. “She’s… actually going to use the Necronomicon motive. I tried talking her out of it, and she just won’t listen… Gonta, Kiibo, Shirogane-san, and even Yumeno-san have all been convinced that it’s a good idea, and I just--” Chabashira’s face crumpled, frustrated. “I don’t know what to do anymore…”

“You can train with us,” Momota joked. 

Chabashira made a disgusted face. “I already train plenty on my own. I have rock hard abs and--” she gave Momota a once-over. “Much stronger muscles than yours on all extremities.” She turned to Harukawa, sparkling. “Girls are perfectly free to touch my abs if they want to! You may feel them if you want, Harukawa-san!”

Harukawa wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass, thanks.” She gave Momota a disappointed look; Momota held up his hands in a surrender gesture. “Hey, I was just jokin’!” He coughed. “I’m… not a fan of spooky stuff, so if ya want us all ta go ta the fourth floor ‘n all, Chabashira, I gotta pass…”

_His speech is slipping,_ Saihara observed. _He’s actually freaked out… It’s kinda funny. _Harukawa appeared to notice too, because she was looking at Momota like he was the brightest, most beautiful star in the universe.

_Or maybe the moon would be a better metaphor, because people only squint when they look at bright stars,_ Saihara suddenly thought, distracted. _Right…_

“HEY!” Chabashira smacked Saihara’s arm, and he let out a yelp. She huffed, crossing her arms. “You weren’t even paying attention, were you, degenerate,” she sneered. 

_Do you want my help or not?_ Saihara bit his lip. “S-Sorry, Chabashira-san… You were saying?”

Chabashira sighed again, staring at the ground. “Yumeno-san… has been feeling down ever since the magic show. She never said anything about it because everyone else seemed to move on, but… We’ve been hanging out a lot lately, and talking about it.”

“She was?” Harukawa furrowed her brows.

Chabashira nodded. “She… It’s not my business, bringing up her past, but as a result of what she faced, Yumeno-san began resenting her magic. She started trying to view it as actual, magical magic, instead of magician tricks, because people always insisted it was all fake. She hated that her magic was being thought of like just a trick, or a lie… Yumeno-san wanted it to be real.”

_That… makes a disturbing amount of sense, somehow._

Chabashira sighed for the umpteenth time. “So the magic show tanked her self-esteem all over again… I never have believed in Yumeno-san’s magic that way; I always just go along with her talk about mana and whatnot because I love her…” Her expression hardened. “But Angie-san seems to be perfectly fine with enabling those negative thoughts.”

“So?” Momota yawned. “She does it to cope. Makes sense to me.”

“It’s not okay, Momota, you idiot degenerate,” Chabashira bit out brusquely. She softened. “Yumeno-san’s just hiding from her problems. Maybe now isn’t the best time to equip her for facing it... but at the very least, I want her to start thinking for herself again instead of just blindly following whatever twisted things Angie-san is doing or saying.”

“Where do we come into play here?” Saihara asked. _I have to admit, even I’d prefer if everyone else cooperated as individuals instead of forming arbitrary groups..._

Chabashira nodded. “Come with me to Angie-san’s lab,” she asked. “Please… I’ll need strength in numbers if I want to confront the student council.”

Momota snapped his fingers. “Right, that reminds me. I gotta go get Kiibo and Iruma... “ He looked up at the others. “Y’all go to the fourth floor without me, okay?” he grinned, though it looked rather forced. “I’ll get these two like we promised Gonta. If my math’s right, you should be about equal in numbers even if I’m not there.”

“Hm?” Harukawa blinked. 

“Ah…” Saihara understood. “He means that Gonta-kun was convinced by us that the rules are baseless, Kiibo-kun is with Iruma-san, proving that he isn’t fully one of Angie-san’s pawns even if he does agree with what she says, and Chabashira-san isn’t on her side to begin with.” He ticked off each person on his fingers, giving Harukawa a visual explanation. “Which leaves Angie-san, Shirogane-san, and Yumeno-san as the only three council members who are probably deeper into it. And then there’s three of us, so we’re evenly matched.”

Harukawa paused, then shook her head. “Fuck math, let’s just go.” They walked, waving goodnight to Momota as he walked to Iruma’s lab.

“Thank you guys,” Chabashira bit her lip, leading the other two up the stairs to the eerie, dim fourth floor. “I mean it. I’ve… not been my best lately.”

“You’re worried about Yumeno-san, right?” Saihara smiled. “It’s natural to feel down when you’re concerned.”

They reached the fourth floor. Yumeno was already in front of Angie’s lab, knocking and trying to talk to Angie from there. She frowned when she noticed the three of them walking up. “Nyeh… What are you guys doing awake?” Yumeno narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Tenko, what are you doing? They’re breaking the rules!”

Chabashira grimaced awkwardly. “Ahaha… well, Yumeno-san…”

_Oh, god, she sucks at faking it, _Saihara thought, panic rising. “Um--”

“We’re here to join the council,” Harukawa said coolly. “We changed our minds on this whole thing being a baseless cult. Chabashira offered to let us talk to Angie. Let us go in.”

_Nice thinking, Maki!_

Yumeno’s furrowed brows stayed furrowed. “This late at night?”

“It’s only ten,” Harukawa retorted. “Not to mention, there’s no clear outlines for joining, so we just decided to talk to the leader ASAP.”

_She’d make a good lawyer, with all those fast responses,_ Saihara thought idly. _Though she’s a bit heated…_

Chabashira elbowed him, and Saihara was brought back to reality again. “Focus, degenerate,” she hissed through grit teeth. Saihara nodded ever so slightly.

“Angie-san,” Saihara began with a small smile. “We’re here to talk to you about--”

“So you’ve chosen now to betray me, Tenko,” Angie said with a wise smile. 

“H-Huh?” Yumeno said, confused.

“Wha--” Harukawa’s mouth fell open, stunned. 

“N-No, Angie-san...” Saihara insisted, though his actor-esque facade was fading fast. “We really are here to join…”

“There’s no use in hiding it from God,” Angie declared. “In fact, Angie has known from the beginning that none of you three have any interest in the Student Council. It’s best for all three of you to leave and go to sleep according to the council’s rules.”

Harukawa clicked her tongue. 

“What?” Yumeno whirled around, betrayed. “Tenko, too? You’re with me and Angie, right? You’re a council member!”

Chabashira grimaced, conflicted. “I…”

“Nyahaha!” Angie clasped her hands. “It’s okay, Himiko. Tenko wasn’t with us to begin with.” Her gaze darkened. “She never believed the way we do.”

“What… What the--” Yumeno had looked lost for a moment, but suddenly, her conviction was back. “Tenko, you _lied to me?”_

_Crap, I forgot that Yumeno-san has a complex about lies,_ Saihara recalled Chabashira’s words in the courtyard. _This won’t be good…_

“I…” Chabashira closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I did. I joined the council mainly to keep an eye on you… because I was worried about you.”

“You…” Yumeno furrowed her brows. “Just because of that?”

“Enough of this garbage,” Harukawa pushed between Chabashira and Yumeno. “Angie. Stop this stupid resurrection ritual bullshit. That’s the only reason we’re here.”

_Don’t tell her that, it’ll make things worse-!_

“See, Himiko?” Angie smiled serenely. “They never wanted to join. Tenko never intended to bring the council to a better place to help everyone. All of them are trying to break it up.”

“How could you?!” Yumeno stepped back, shaking her head. “W-Why--”

“I already told you I didn’t wanna see this sentimental crap,” Harukawa growled. She pointed a fierce, icy glare at Angie. “Yonaga Angie. Abandon the resurrection ritual.”

“H-Hold on, Maki, we’re not supposed to threaten her,” Saihara interrupted. “We--”

“Angie won’t abandon it,” Angie interrupted, replying to Harukawa’s vitriol with that same serene smile, though her tone gave Saihara the impression that she was equally as angry. “The wax effigies she’s been working on all day… plus all the other prep work she’s done… Angie’s gonna go all the way through with it.” She beamed, eyes dark and unforgiving. “Nyahaha! Once she’s started, she won’t stop!”

“This isn’t about effort or work, you fucking_ authoritarian_ _cultist,”_ Harukawa snarled. “Cut this shit out before I--”

“Maki,” Saihara scrambled, trying to speak over her before she said something that completely damned their fragile friendship on top of their already botched negotiation attempts. He turned to Angie. “Angie-san… what we mean to say is that whether or not you can bring someone back from the dead, it’s dangerous to consider doing so. There’s ethical concerns, and other things…” he trailed off, assuming that Angie got it. “Not to mention, the Necronomicon is something weird that _Monokuma_ gave us.”

Angie stared at him. “Shuichi,” she murmured softly, “You’re very sweet, okay? You’re a better tempered samaritan than _some_ people…” She glanced briefly at Chabashira and Harukawa before turning her gaze back to Saihara. “But Angie knows the danger. It’s _because_ Monokuma gave it to us that she’s even doing this to begin with.”

Saihara blinked, startled. “Huh?” Harukawa and Yumeno each narrowed their eyes in tandem.

Chabashira bit her lip. “What does that mean…?”

Angie looked at them again, and suddenly, Saihara felt like her eyes were a lot baggier than they had been previously. In fact… her whole disposition looked worn out. _Did Angie-san… Did Yonaga Angie really always look this tired and weary when she wasn’t acting cheerful and smiley? _

“There’s something about this school,” Angie said gravely. “About this school, the way it’s designed and organized, and the nature of this killing game… It’s been bothering Angie since the beginning. And once Monokuma gave this third motive, God suddenly gave Angie enough puzzle pieces to form a hunch.” She grinned again, returning to her previous animated state. “So Angie’s just trying to test out her theory with the ritual! She’s gonna set it up completely tonight, then start actually doing it tomorrow morning as soon as she wakes up.”

Yumeno whined. “Nyeh… Angie,” she protested. “Please at least tell us what you’re doing and why! Explain what this theory is, or what God said! Give us details… We’re your followers!” She paused, then gave Chabashira a betrayed look. _“Some of us_ are your followers.” She looked over at Saihara and Harukawa, and seemed to take in the fact that none of the other council members were even there, then readjusted her words a final time: _“I’m _your follower.”

“This sort of… cryptic, creepy thing,” Chabashira found her voice. “It’s exactly why I think you should reconsider, Yumeno-san. This student council isn’t about all of us; it’s about Angie testing out her thoughts on her own, without anyone else interfering.”

Angie’s lip curled up-- Saihara would’ve called the look on her face ‘amused’ if he had to give it any sort of descriptor. _Is Chabashira-san right or wrong…? What’s making her smile so knowingly?_

_The way Angie-san does that really does remind me of Ouma-kun..._

“No, I don’t,” Yumeno turned to Chabashira, annoyed. “I can think for myself, Tenko. Angie’s student council is good for all of us! I don’t get why you’re getting so upset about it!”

“It’s not,” Chabashira clenched her fists, voice rising. “It’s not! There’s something seriously wrong when Angie-san’s only enabling all of you to believe in fantasies instead of the reality in front of you! Whether what she’s doing is good or bad… I can’t accept it, and I can’t accept that you’re going along with it!”

“Shut _up,_ Tenko!” Yumeno yelled back at her. “Angie _is _doing the right thing. She isn’t being bad or evil, she’s just trying to help! With her and her God by our side, we can make the best of this whole stitchulation--”

“Y-You mean--”

“I know I mean ‘situation’!” Yumeno cried out, frustrated and angry. _“Forget that!_ Angie’s doing the right thing. She believes in her God, and she believes in me and my magic and mana. She believes in my talent as a witch, so I _will_ stay by her side. You might think that I don’t notice, but I can tell that you don’t actually believe me when I say that I am a witch, and it hurts! You think I’m crazy like Iruma, don’t you?” Her anger bubbled, festering, and then she at last exploded: “Well, I don’t care what you think! You can die mad about it!”

Chabashira let out a cry of pain as she touched her forehead. “Agh--” Her hands retracting into a more claw-like position. “Yumeno-san, please-- please listen to what I have to say--”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” Yumeno’s voice broke as she clutched her head, shaking it in denial. Then, she pointed accusingly at Chabashira. “Why don’t you just admit it, Tenko?! You’re just jealous of all the time I’m spending with Angie lately because of your feelings for me!”

Saihara’s eyes widened. _Holy--_

Chabashira recoiled, like Yumeno’s words had physically stung her. “Yumeno-san…”

“There’s nothing else to talk about here,” Yumeno said darkly. “You betrayed the council, me, and Angie.” She frowned, creases in her brow finally easing to reveal sadness behind her fury. Yumeno marched away, hand on her head as if pressing back a headache. “I… I’m too angry right now, I’m not saying nice things... I don’t wanna see you right now, Tenko. Just… Just leave.” She paused, then continued walking. “Seeya later, Angie.”

Angie looked at Yumeno, then at Chabashira. “That’s all, Angie supposes,” she said quietly. It shouldn’t have come to this…”

“It’s because of _your cult,”_ Chabashira choked out bitterly. “It’s your fault that this is--”

“We’re all good kids, Tenko,” Angie said faintly, looking ahead where Yumeno turned the corner to go down the stairs. “We’re all good children of God.” She sighed. “ We shouldn’t be out here killing each other. Not when we all have a common enemy… and not when we have information that we can use to figure out this place.” She turned to actually look at Chabashira, then stepped forward, motioning for Chabashira to come closer.

Chabashira hesitated, then did, still looking down at Angie with knit brows.

Angie cupped her hands on Chabashira’s cheeks and wiped away the tears in her eyes with her thumbs. “Angie’s sorry for the strife and pain she’s caused to you,” she said quietly. “But even though you’re worried about Himiko, Angie won’t give up. This is all for the sake of maintaining peace for everyone…” She shook her head, evidently deciding that she didn’t want to fully explain herself after all. “Go to sleep for tonight, Tenko. Angie will do the ritual in the morning, and everything will make sense then.”

Angie turned around and walked back into her lab, closing the door and locking it behind her.

_Maybe she’s not that much like Ouma-kun at all,_ Saihara thought. _At the very least… I know Ouma-kun wouldn’t have reacted the way Angie-san did. _Saihara turned to look at Harukawa behind him, then at Chabashira in front of him, not really knowing what to say. 

“Chabashira,” Harukawa began. She didn’t continue.

Chabashira’s eyes welled with frustrated tears all over again. She brought her hands back to her face as if to hide, though it wasn’t quite clear if she was concealing her appearance or her sobs. “Ugh…”

“Chabashira-san,” Saihara walked over to her, hand hovering in hesitation above her shoulder. “I’m sorry…”

Chabashira gently pushed his hand away, sniffling loudly-- far different from her usual attempts to aikido flip whatever degenerate male dared to touch her. “It just…” Chabashira bit her lip, rubbing the tears in her eyes with the heels of her palms and doing her best to stop her own smile from wobbling. “I heard this from someone else… someone in my forgotten memories from the headaches, when Y-Yumeno-san was yelling at me.... _‘It hurts more when it comes from a friend’. _I don’t normally hear people talking when I get headaches, but this voice… cut through everything else.”

(The words sent a strong ache in Saihara’s head, even though they felt foreign to his ears.)

“It hurts more when it comes from a friend,” Chabashira repeated, nose and eyes rimmed red from all her sniffling. “Angie-san and Yumeno-san were both my friends, even if I was jealous of Angie-san most of the time, and now…it just… it just hurts. Their words and actions… everything hurts.” 

Harukawa’s gaze softened. “Chabashira… I…”

Chabashira sighed shakily. “No, it’s… It’s fine. Don’t apologize, Harukawa-san… and Saihara. Thank you both for trying to help me. Truly, genuinely, it means a lot…” Her voice trembled, betraying her own pain. “Goodnight.”

And then she went back down the stairs and to the dorms, sniffling the whole way.

“Maki,” Saihara nudged her shoulder slightly. “Should we…?”

Harukawa blinked at him, then sighed, biting her thumb. “We can go back to try and convince Angie tomorrow, if you really want to. But I really don’t think there’s a point. If she’s already this determined, no amount of talking will take her down.”

“I…” Saihara pursed his lips. “I want to try.”

Harukawa shrugged, walking to the stairs to go back to the dorms. “If that’s what you want.”

_It is what I want. Helping our friends… Trying to get them to see that we can’t split ourselves into groups like this. _Saihara followed her. 

_I’ll ask Chabashira-san to come with me. We’ll both go back tomorrow, and talk to Angie-san then..._

=

_Nighttime already?_ Shinguji thought, startled as he saw how late it had gotten. _It’s past midnight, already, goodness._ _My, I’ve been looking through these old Japanese rituals the whole time. I mustn’t get so distracted…_

His brain still felt somewhat fuzzy, like mush-- like someone was molding it with clay, changing it and shifting it… But overall, he felt much more energetic now that he had finally regained some of his memories. And to think, he’d thought that the precious Caged Child papers and artifacts were fictitious, forged garbage only a few hours before! How fortunate that he was able to see the truth, all according to what Shirogane had told him about the flashback light. He’d had an enlightened afternoon indeed...

It was strange that Monokuma had told the others that there was a flashback light that could work on everyone individually. Even more so that he had told them without calling an announcement. But it was quite alright-- everyone else must have seen it by now and gained their own respective memories of certain parts of their lives, thanks to Shirogane’s gracious offer to take it to them once he’d finished using it. 

_Shirogane-san passed the test. Of the remaining girls left, she’d be a good candidate..._

Shinguji almost felt angry at himself. How could he have forgotten Sister? How could he have forgotten his roots in killing? His interest in the supernatural and the occult? All due to his sister’s influence-- how could he have forgotten someone so important to him, so imperative to his very being?

He had to escape. He had to kill and bring more friends to his sister, and then escape and kill more for her. She needed friends, and he was already so close to his goal of a hundred...

It didn’t give him a headache, no, but it was important. It _had_ to be. That’s what the flashback light told him. That’s what Shirogane told him...

An idea dawned on him. He licked his lips behind his mask, feeling a thick coating on his tongue, and smiled.

_The Cursed Child ritual… would be a good backdrop for the murder, no?_

Trancelike, he went to the three spare rooms on the fourth floor, setting up the incantation circles on each floor and cutting up the floorboards to create the seesaw trick. It took about forty or so minutes per room-- _perfect,_ he’d be done with plenty of time to spare before morning.

He continued his work in the final room, taking out the floorboards… 

=

_Hm…_ Angie looked on the wall by her lab._ It’s two in the morning, and all Angie needs now is a candle… Where can she get one this late? _

A bright idea came into her head-- courtesy of God, of course. Those three empty rooms in the fourth floor hall between Shinguji’s lab and her own-- they were pitch black, but otherwise lit by candles on the walls. She could just borrow one for the Necronomicon ritual.

So she walked over to the rooms. _Hm, that’s strange. This room doesn’t have a candle lit…_ She walked to the next one._ And neither does this one…_

She walked into the third one, relieved to see light. Then, she saw who else was in the room. _Korekiyo? _Angie thought. _What is he doing…?_

Wooden floorboard panels. A saw. A cut up crosspiece under the floorboard. 

Angie’s eyes widened. _He’s preparing for a murder--!_

And then their eyes met. 

His eyes… weren’t the same dark black-ish color Angie was used to seeing. They looked golden, piercing. _Almost like…_

All was silent except for their breathing. Angie’s heartbeat picked up its pace as she took a step back. “Korekiyo,” she said calmly. “I--”

_Like a cornered, caught predator who’s just decided to tear me to shreds._

Shinguji stood up from where he was, looming nearly a foot taller than her. He dropped the saw, letting it clatter and fall on top of the crosspiece.

Angie took several more steps backwards, looking left and right out of the corners of her eyes to be sure that the door was a viable exit. “K-Korekiyo, Angie swears she doesn’t know what you’re doing-- she didn’t see anything, okay? You were never here. Angie was never here. Angie won’t tell anyone, so...” her voice sped up with every passing word, trying to get them to work. 

(Unfortunately for her, this version of Shinguji didn’t seem like he cared for words anymore.)

Shinguji ambled slowly, zombielike, towards the wall where he candle holder was. He picked up the candle from its holder, eyes wide open and staring straight at her, unblinking. 

Shinguji unzipped his mask. To Angie’s confusion and horror, a scarlet, lipstick-covered pair of lips puckered to blow out the candlelight.

And then Angie was enveloped in darkness.

Thudding, wild footsteps rushed towards her; Angie stumbled, then screamed as she tried feeling her way through the dim hallway back to the safety of her own lab.“NO, KOREKIYO, IT’S JUST ME-- DON’T KILL ME, ANGIE WON’T--” Angie screamed, a half-strangled sob tearing itself from her throat. “_SOMEBODY HELP!”_

But this was the fourth floor, and the dorms were on the first-- in a rather far-off wing. Angie’s heart sank at the realization. There was no way anyone would hear her, unless they were awake and wandering around on the third floor, or maybe the second if they had particularly good ears.

Angie ran as fast as she could, considering herself vaguely lucky and blessed by God that Shinguji had dropped the literal_ saw_ he’d been holding in order to nab her with the wooden plank instead-- but even then, he was taller and weighed more and was definitely_ much_ stronger than she was, even if she had athleticism and tennis experience on her side.

_Why is he doing this? He wasn’t like this before-- he isn’t himself! Angie has to get away from him, or get him to snap out of it! What happened to him? Does it have to do with the fact that this academy and this killing game is--_

She felt the _whoosh_ of a floorboard swinging beside her ear, having failed to slam her head, and desperately ran faster.

_Last resort--!_ Angie took the second hammer and chisel set out of her pocket, the one she’d sharpened and been keeping in her coat the entire past two days _just in case,_ whirled around in a frenzy, and stabbed the chisel through Shinguji’s left hand with all the force she could muster._ Please work, please, God, please work, please stall him and let Angie get away from him, he isn’t himself right now-- Angie doesn’t want to die yet--!_

Shinguji let out a piercing cry-- much higher-pitched than his voice usually sounded-- and stumbled, clutching the wound as Angie wrenched the now bloody chisel out of his hand and ran away from him. The bandages wrapped around his arms and hands soaked up the blood that gushed out from the hole. After a split second of pain, Shinguji regained his footing and somehow managed to continue running, following Angie once again with the wooden plank in his right hand, operating on nothing but pure adrenaline and panic.

_How is he still able to run?!_

Dismayed, Angie turned back around and ran, ran, ran, heartbeat slamming against her chest, blood and sweat and tears drying on her face and arms; she was almost around the corner back to where her lab was--

\--and then she cried out as pain pulled at her head and forced her to stumble backwards; she let the bloody chisel clatter to the floor as she reached her hands back behind herself, trying to get Shinguji’s hands off of her ponytails; he’d_ yanked her back by her hair,_ and--!

=

His own heavy breathing was all that he could hear, save for the flickering of the dim hallway lights. His once blurry vision now cleared, and he took a wavering step back.

Yonaga Angie was dead, crumpled on the floor at his feet, and Shinguji Korekiyo had more than one person’s blood on his hands-- literally.

His breathing was still heavy. His eyes shifted in a panic, looking for any other potential witnesses who might’ve seen or heard parts of this affair.

_I need to get rid of the evidence. I’m lucky that Angie-san is an acceptable candidate for Sister, but I need to get rid of the evidence so I can use the seesaw trick!_

He felt so compelled to use the seesaw trick. It called to him. Spoke to him in a calm and soothing voice, telling him everything was fine. It was a method he had to use to please Sister and escape...

There was no point in individual freedoms. No point in exploring to live for oneself. All he had to do was submit himself to his sister and her desire for friends…

More importantly, he had to hide this messy murder. Angie’s hair, fortunately, hadn’t been tainted by his own blood-- though she’d stabbed him with devastating accuracy, the blood spurting from his hand hadn’t reached the fingers he’d used to grab her ponytail and drag her back.

“Fuck,” he panted breathlessly, heart still racing, chest still heaving. He stared at his bloody, bloody hands, feeling sick to his stomach as the adrenaline high finally ebbed away. “What was I doing...? What have I...”

_What have I done…?_

_How can I possibly hide this?! _

He looked inside Angie’s open, unlocked lab, where she’d almost managed to reach, and at last saw the wax effigies and the summoning circle on the floor.

_Get some rope and the gold-leaf katana,_ a voice-- his own? Sister’s?-- whispered in his head. _Before that, bring duct tape and get the bleeding to stop for both her and yourself. Then hide the bandages and the chisel and finish setting up the Caged Child ritual murder you’ve planned..._

_ Make it look like a twisted accident. _

=

Chabashira was surprised to be woken up by the noise of her doorbell.

_Is it… Yumeno-san?_ She shook away the thought._ No way… not after what she said last night. _She got up, making sure she looked presentable in her pajamas just in case it really_ was_ Yumeno, and then opened the door.

“Um-- hi,” Saihara said awkwardly. “Good morning.” He yawned, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

_Yeah, I figured it wouldn’t be Yumeno-san, but… _“Saihara…?” Chabashira sounded out his name owlishly, confused. _I don’t think I’ve ever seen a day where he’s woken up earlier than I do, and I normally get up around dawn…_

“I was wondering,” Saihara blinked back water in his eyes, fighting against another yawn, “if you’d like to go talk to Angie-san again. Or Yumeno-san… If you did, I wanted to try again with you, so I got up earlier...”

_He’s actually acting assertive for once, what a surprise. Getting cocky for a degenerate male, but… it’s a nice thought. _“I’ll get ready,” Chabashira sniffed, already combing her fingers through her hair. “Stay out. I’ll be there soon.”

Chabashira brushed her teeth and changed her clothes, coming out again after a few minutes. Saihara was still waiting obediently outside her door. “Shall we go, then?”

Chabashira nodded. “Angie-san normally wakes up early too, though, so she’s probably on the fourth floor already trying that ritual of hers,” she sighed. “But Yumeno-san should still be asleep in her dorm room.”

“Let’s go talk to her first then,” Saihara said. “Kaito probably won’t wanna come to the fourth floor, but Maki might, if I ask nicely…”

_That reminds me, he called her ‘Maki’ last night too… First name basis… with both of them?_ Chabashira raised a brow. “Okay, then.”

She didn’t usually talk to Saihara all that much-- degenerate maleness and all. But Chabashira supposed he couldn’t be that bad of a guy.

“Yumeno-san,” Saihara rang the doorbell, probably knowing that Yumeno was still mad at Chabashira. “Yumeno-san?”

No answer. Saihara tried again once, then twice, and there was still no response.

“There’s no time,” Saihara clicked his tongue, and even though Chabashira knew he was right, she still wanted to flip him and try again and again, over and over, to talk to Yumeno and set things right. “We’ll have to try Maki next, and if she doesn’t answer, we’ll go alone. We can’t be late, or else Angie-san will have done the ritual…”

“Maki,” Saihara rang her doorbell. “Maaaaakiiiii…” He knit his brows at the silence, then rang the doorbell at least ten times in light-speed succession. 

“What are you doing?!” Chabashira hissed, yanking his arm from the doorbell. “You stupid degenerate, that’s _rude--”_

To Chabashira’s surprise, the door actually opened. “What the fuck,” Harukawa’s voice was raspy from sleep. “Kai-- ah, Shuichi? You’re actually awake?”

_All three of them are on first name basis with each other?_

“I knew ringing the bell like Kaito would work,” Saihara muttered under his breath. He looked at Harukawa. “Chabashira-san and I are going back to talk to Angie-san again. Are you coming with us?”

Harukawa paused, then sighed. “Fine. Lemme change.”

She closed the door, and was out again in around a minute.

“That was fast,” Chabashira whispered in awe. 

Harukawa closed the door behind her and motioned for them all to start walking to the fourth floor. “Assassin training,” she replied curtly. “Get into disguise as fast as possible. Have either of you talked to Yumeno yet?”

Chabashira shook her head. “We tried, but… Yumeno-san wasn’t awake.”

“She could’ve been out of her dorm room,” Saihara mused. “Since she’s so devoted to the Student Council, it’s possible that she’s with them.”

“It’s unlikely, though,” Chabashira sighed. “She usually isn’t ever awake early.”

“Ah! You guys, help me open this door! Angie won’t come out!”

_What._

Standing in front of them was none other than Yumeno, who looked rather frazzled.

“Yumeno-san?” Chabashira asked, dumbfounded.

“She locked both doors,” Yumeno insisted, somewhat annoyed. “And I keep calling out to her, but I’m not getting a response!”

Chabashira turned, knocking on the door. “Angie-san! Are you in there?” She pressed her ear to the door. “No answer,” she told the others, shaking her head. “It’s weird, there’s no other noise inside either…”

Saihara and Harukawa gave each other a mutual look, furrowing their brows. “That’s strange,” Harukawa said at last. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a lithe, toned arm. “Lemme try…”

Harukawa tried wrenching the doorknob open with sheer brute force, to no avail. “The other door?” Chabashira suggested.

“This was the sliding lock door,” Yumeno said, “so that might be why. Maybe if you try the normal lock door it’ll work?”

They walked to the other side and let Harukawa try again. It still didn’t work. “The hell are these doors made of?” Harukawa grit her teeth. “I _know_ I’m stronger than this, the fuck--”

“Do you guys want me to do something about it?” 

Saihara let out a shriek, then pressed a hand to his forehead. “Ouma-kun, don’t scare us like that…”

Ouma snickered. “Not my fault that you’re a scaredy cat.” His eyes watered, weepy. “Though it would’ve been soooo much funnier if it was Momota-chan, since he’s the biggest scaredy cat coward ever in history. I’m sooo sad…. uughghughuh,” he wept crocodile tears.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara said, exasperated.

“If you don’t shut up, degenerate, I’ll aikido flip you,” Chabashira warned. “If it worked on someone heavy like Kiibo, it’ll definitely work on someone feather-light like you.”

Ouma clicked his tongue, but obeyed-- probably one of his better judgements. “Relax, Chabashira-chan,” he grinned. “I had to talk to Angie-chan about a little something-something, but if she’s not responding, I can pick the lock.”

Harukawa whipped her head over to where Ouma was. “You can _what?”_

“I can pick locks,” Ouma twirled his hair.

“Do you have a lockpicking set on you right now?” Harukawa demanded. “What do--”

“I have my lockpicking set on me right now, so I can work on the door that has a normal lock and key,” Ouma interrupted as if Harukawa hadn’t spoken at all, looking at his nails. 

“Then get to it,” Yumeno hissed, bouncing on her heels. “Who knows what Angie’s doing?!”

_Yeah! _Chabashira furrowed her brows and nodded vigorously, fully in agreement with Yumeno. 

“Don’t get your boxers into a twist, Yumeno-chan, I’ll pick the precious lock for you!” Ouma sighed dramatically, taking out a wire from his pocket and fiddling with the lock.

“H-Hey, I don’t wear--”

_This degenerate…_ “That’s sexual harassment and I have legal reason to kill you,” Chabashira said darkly, cracking her knuckles. “Prepare for an aikido flip…”

“Don’t,” Saihara said mildly. “At least let him pick the lock first.” 

Chabashira lowered her fist, still maintaining a look of disgust at Ouma. 

Ouma turned, pouting. “So _mean_ to me, my beloved Saihara-chan! And here I thought my deep, impassioned love would be reciprocated.”

Saihara raised a brow, wincing slightly. “Please hurry, Ouma-kun. We’re all worried about Angie-san…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ouma wiggled the wire at a slightly different angle, and the lock at last gave them all the satisfying click they’d been waiting for. He turned the doorknob and swung the door open. “Angie-chaaaaan--”

Ouma froze, breath hitching.

Saihara, Harukawa, and Chabashira, all tall enough to see above his head, froze along with him. Yumeno, the only one shorter, pushed past all of them. “Ugh, move over, I can’t see-- what’s--” Yumeno’s eyes widened. “An...gie…?”

Yonaga Angie was lying in the middle of an incantation circle, unmoving, with four wax figures of their deceased friends hanging upside down from the ceiling around her.

The horrified scream that ripped itself from Yumeno’s throat was a sound that Chabashira never wanted to hear again. 

And alongside it was another sound that Chabashira dreaded hearing: the familiar, light bell tone that had marked death twice over before...

_“Attention, students! A body has been discovered! Everyone assemble in the Ultimate Artist lab. After a brief period of time, an investigation period will begin. A body has been discovered!”_

_=_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always have felt like Danganronpa tried too hard to tone down its murders in the games so that they're less brutal. Characters not realizing they're about to be murdered and dying instantly... doesn't really portray the picture of horror it ought to, given how terrifying and brutal the killing game is by its own nature. Obviously game ratings and age stuff has to do with it, but I kinda wanted to try writing something more creepy, since Danganronpa is meant to be considered as a horror or psychological game. 
> 
> There's also mainly the detail with the chisel... Hoshi's murder in particular didn't differ from canon, so I didn't portray it as explicitly because it wouldn't have changed the trial's discussion, unlike this one.
> 
> As for the "war" that never came to fruition... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Next chapter will be a **double update,** but it will be **postponed to Saturday** instead of the usual Thursday update because I have final exams coming up. See you all then!


	22. 3-4. Investigation/Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harukawa gives Saihara a warning.
> 
> Shinguji lies and schemes.
> 
> Chabashira declares her love and breathes her last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update! The next chapter (ch 23/3-5) was posted at the same time as this one, so don't forget to read that chapter too!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience with these two chapters! Truth be told, I still have a few final exams next week (nothing too difficult or serious-- don't worry about me!), but I don't want to take any serious breaks or hiatuses, so I'm continuing forward. 
> 
> Also, I apologize to all the Tenko and tenmiko fans out there. She's a wonderful girl and an amazing character, and I loved writing her, but we still (one of yall's gonna hurt me for this one day bdsfkhlds) aren't exactly at the place where I'm having canon diverge.

Everyone had gathered in the lab, running and yelling and gasping in varying levels of shock. The Student Council in particular mourned Yonaga Angie’s death more passionately than the others.

“Angie,” Yumeno sobbed, trying to shake Angie’s shoulders. “Wake up, Angie…”

“Don’t move the body, Yumeno-san,” Saihara said quietly.

“It’s not a body,” Yumeno insisted, voice thin and watery. “It’s Angie.”

“Let…” Chabashira bit her lip, placing a comforting hand on Yumeno’s shoulder and squeezing. “Let Angie-san rest, then.”

_There’s definitely going to be a trial. _Saihara’s heart sank. Really, he just felt numb. Another murder, after there had already been two… it was sad to see. He shook his head. _What’s done is done. I’m definitely upset that Angie-san died, but… I need to tell those two something, just in case. _

Quietly, he made his way to where Momota and Harukawa were standing. “There’s going to be a trial, without a doubt,” he murmured, barely a whisper. 

“Yeah…” Harukawa sighed.

Saihara continued. “ I trust that neither of you are the murderer, so… if I have to lie again, and I need you guys to help me out, I’ll cue you guys so you can help me out if I need it. Okay?”

“H-H-How?” Momota chattered, warily shifting his eyes left and right.

Saihara hadn’t actually thought of it. He looked up for a moment, trying to think of some sort of memorable verbal code or facial expression or hand position--

\--and saw Ouma twirling his hair as he stared at the wax figure of Amami.

“I’ll twirl my hair,” Saihara whispered back. “If I ever have to lie and need your cooperation, I’ll twirl my hair as I say it.”

Harukawa nodded. “Got it.”

“S-Sidekicks shouldn’t give orders like that,” Momota stammered, looking simultaneously miffed and sick. “But… trusting each other’s…” he coughed. “Good…”

“Well, well, well,” Monokuma waddled up to the rest of them. “Look what we have here… another death!”

The Monokubs followed, wailing exaggeratedly. “A freak accident with the Necronomicon?!” Monosuke sobbed. “Noooooo!”

“There, there,” Monotaro patted him on his shoulder.

Monokid cackled. “Maybe she’s not dead, maybe the ritual succeeded and she’s just possessed by a sleeping ghost!”

"Like the t-transfer student?!" Shirogane shrieked.

Monophanie grinned. “Or even better, she’s gonna become an even better Ultimate Artist in her next life!” 

“EEK-- g-ghost…” Momota looked even more at unease. He let out a groan. “F-Fuck, ‘m dizzy again… Lightheaded…”

“A-N-Y-W-A-Y,” Monodam interrupted.

“The information is all on your Monopads!” Monokuma grinned. “Your time to investigate has begun.”

“I-I’m gonna go…” Momota’s face looked weary. “I…”

“Are…” Harukawa narrowed her gaze. “Are you sick?”

“N-No,” Momota’s voice trembled a bit. He grinned, and it was completely out of place. “T-This place just… gives me the creeps… ‘N I trust you guys to investigate well. Go on and do it without me.” 

“W-Wait, Kaito,” Saihara placed his hands in front of himself. “You could still help a bit--”

“Leave it be, Shuichi. Just let him take a break,” Harukawa rose a brow at him. “He's got some nerve bossing us around like we really _are_ his sidekicks, but there’s plenty of us left to investigate even if he doesn’t help, right?” She turned to Momota. “Go rest, Kaito.”

Momota nodded wearily, ambling out.

Saihara let out a small sigh, a bit displeased._ He was helpful in the last case, so I’d have preferred having him here again… But I guess everyone has to rest from time to time._ He pulled out his Monopad and scanned the information:

**VICTIM: **YONAGA ANGIE

**AGE: **[REDACTED]

**SEX:** [REDACTED]

**GENDER:** F

**LOCATION OF DEATH:** ULTIMATE ARTIST LAB

**CAUSE OF DEATH:** STABBING

**TIME OF DEATH: **2:09 A.M.

**KILLER: **[REDACTED]

It was somewhat of a relief that there wasn’t as much information redacted as there had been in Hoshi’s case. Even so, Saihara’s detective instincts honed in on one specific piece of information.

_So there definitely is a killer… This wasn’t a freak accident. Someone intentionally altered the crime scene to make it seem that way…!_

Even though this logic was apparent to Saihara, some of the others didn’t appear to think the same way. “It was an accident,” Yumeno hiccuped. “She should’ve waited to do the ritual…”

Surprisingly, Shinguji was the one to speak up. “Yumeno-san, I believe there is a method through which we can talk to Angie-san one more time.”

Saihara frowned, quietly observing the exchange. 

“Th-There is?”

Shinguji nodded. “Indeed… In my laboratory yesterday, I found another summoning ritual-- the Caged Child ritual. I believe the Necronomicon can only be used once, so we cannot use it anymore to talk to Angie-san… But we might be able to use this ritual to contact her again.”

“If that’s possible…” Yumeno’s lip wobbled. “Then I’d like to help with it, Shinguji.”

“Splendid,” Shinguji raised his arms up, eyes crinkling with joy-- clearly, he was smiling under the mask. “Then perhaps while the others investigate, we may be able to set up the ritual. I will need helpers, but that can be decided afterwards. I shall gather the materials and set up the summoning circle.”

“Where will you set it up?” Yumeno shifted.

“Hm…” Shinguji pondered, tapping his chin with a heavily bandaged hand. “I know. There are three empty rooms on this floor that will work perfectly. You may pick one of the three.”

“Oh, those rooms…” Yumeno bit her lip. “Then, the one on the far right.”

“An excellent choice,” Shinguji nodded. “Perfect. I shall set up the room, then…”

“OOOOH!” Ouma raised his hand excitedly, interrupting the conversation. “I wanna help too! Pleasepleaseplease!” his eyes sparkled. “I can gather materials!”

Shinguji looked rather miffed, like he’d rather not have Ouma even breathe near his materials, much less touch them, but closed his eyes in acquiescence. “Very well. Ouma-kun, Yumeno-san, Chabashira-san-- if you would all please help with the materials for the seance. I trust everyone else with investigating.” 

And then he left.

_That was odd, _Saihara narrowed hs gaze. _Both the way his hand is bandaged with more layers than normal, and what he said… I thought Shinguji-kun was smarter than that. I never imagined he’d be one to believe in ghosts or summoning rituals, but I guess the supernatural does have cultural significance..._

“Shuichi,” Maki nudged him. “Let’s investigate?”

“Ah-- yeah,” Saihara straighted up. “Let’s go.”

There were four wax effigies-- one of Amami, one of Akamatsu, one of Hoshi, and one of Toujo. Saihara opted to observe them later and went to Angie’s body first, where Iruma was looking.

“Kiibo left to interview Hoemota and Shincoochie first, so I came here,” Iruma explained needlessly. 

“You mean Kaito and Shinguji-kun,” Saihara asked rather flatly.

Iruma ignored him, turning to the body. “It’s weird…” she muttered. “There’s duct tape and hair underneath her, along with all the blood…”

“Really?” Saihara blinked, gently lifting Angie’s head. It was exactly as Iruma said. _That’s definitely strange..._

“There was a sharp mark on the back of her neck,” Gonta pointed out. “And a big bump on the back of her head…” He gulped, wiping away tears. “Angie-san…”

“Sharp mark?” Saihara repeated, turning her over slightly. “A cut… a stab wound? There’s dried blood around it, so…”

“It’s vertical, so it was caused by something like a knife or a sword. Someone definitely gripped the weapon in front of their chest and then stabbed it through…” Harukawa examined. “The wound is at least several centimeters deep. Since it’s behind, this was probably a sneak attack.”

_Right, as an assassin she’d know…_ Immediately, Sahara’s eyes drifted to the gold-leaf katana that had been stabbed through the wax effigy of Akamatsu, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. _The gold-leaf katana from Shinguji-kun’s lab… is stabbed into Kaede’s effigy... _He hesitated.

As if sensing what he was thinking, Harukawa briskly walked over to it and removed the katana with ease. 

“Ah--!”

“Shuichi,” Harukawa said, inspecting the sword, “I get that you cared about Akamatsu, but you need to focus on this investigation.”

Saihara sighed. “That’s not--”

“Don’t you get it?” Harukawa glared. 

“What…?” Saihara blinked.

Shirogane, who had been timidly standing off to the side, spoke up. “U-Um-- I think what Harukawa-san means to say is that… all the other wax effigies are unscathed. Hoshi’s and Toujo-san’s… none of their effigies have been altered aside from being tied up.”

_Huh? Wait, where did Amami-kun’s effigy go? It was definitely there a few minutes ago--_

Harukawa sighed. “You don’t get it, do you, Shuichi. The culprit purposely put this katana through Akamatsu’s effigy _knowing_ that it’d make you not want to touch it or mess with it. _You’re _the detective, so it’s obvious you’d be most curious and investigative. They exploited your feelings and past relationship.”

“Huh…” Saihara frowned. _It hurts, but it’s a smart move for sure. _“You’re right, that makes sense. But how’d you reason that so quickly?”

Harukawa sniffed. “Detectives have snooped around other assassins I knew before. It’s important to do work efficiently and quickly, or else find out details about them. Knowing what they like or dislike can help a bit… That’s why I keep telling you it’s better not to be too trusting of everyone here.”

Saihara was quiet. “I see…”

“Anyway…” Harukawa continued, inspecting the katana carefully. “It’s not the katana,” she finally declared. “There’s dry blood on the katana, but there’s not enough to match the depth of the wound. There also aren’t any marks on it that suggest that part of it was wiped clean somehow.” She looked to the door with the sliding lock immediately behind them both. “And there’s weird gold flakes on the lock.”

_Huh? Then how was Angie-san… _Nonetheless, Saihara nodded. “Thanks, Maki.”

Gonta spoke up. “The Necronomicon is here. Gonta’s reading the ritual right now, if everyone wants to look. Though he can’t read all the hard kanji...”

Iruma came up behind him, placing her chin on Gonta’s head as she muttered aloud the words she could see. She let out an irritated noise. “Ugh, I dunno some of these either…”

“L-Let me see, then,” Shirogane piped up, walking up to them. “I’m plain, but I can probably read it…” She skimmed the page. “‘Prepare an effigy of the dead soul you wish to contact-- the size and shape is irrelevant; make it out of whatever materials you wish. Everyone may participate. If it is not obvious who the effigy is meant to represent, or you are concerned about summoning the wrong soul, label it with the name of the deceased. After preparing the effigy, burn this Necronomicon to ashes. Use caution. Be careful of carbon monoxide poisoning. Sprinkle the ashes on the effigy and say the name of the deceased three times, then close your eyes and wait. After a while, you should feel two light taps on your back. If so, that means the ritual was a success!’”

Saihara was vaguely impressed. _That’s the most I’ve heard Shirogane-san talk in the few weeks we’ve been here._

“Angie really believed in this crap?” Harukawa scoffed. “It’s obvious you won’t be able to bring a person back to life with steps like these.”

The way Iruma’s facial expression shifted brought into Saihara’s mind the vivid image of a stranded desert navigator who’d at last found water. “That’s what I’ve been fuckin’ saying for ages!”

Shirogane sighed. “Harukawa-san has a point… Human transmutation takes a lot more effort and alchemy than this book says, huh…”

Saihara frowned, ignoring what he assumed was some sort of anime reference. _At any rate, there’s something about these steps that may help us look for definitive evidence._ “Gonta-kun,” he finally said. “Would you look at all of the hanging effigies and check for any small particles?”

Gonta tilted his head. “Particles?”

“Like…” Saihara paused. “Like dust, or ash. Small crumbs.”

Gonta nodded. “Okay! Gonta’s tall, so he can search. Gonta will be useful!”

“B-Be careful not to mess up the effigies, though!” Shirogane shivered. “The dust and the light taps on the back thing… W-We wouldn’t want the spirits to get angry and kill someone else, too…”

Iruma grinded her teeth. “You, witch bitch, and this chick’re all the same. The occult isn’t real. There’s no such thing as spirits. You’ll be fucking fine.”

Shirogane whimpered. “B-But…”

“Leave it be, both of you,” Harukawa rolled her eyes.

“Saihara-kun!” Gonta said at last. “There’s no crumbs or dust or ashes on any of the effigies!”

“You’re absolutely positive?” Saihara asked. Gonta nodded.

Saihara placed a pensive hand over his mouth. _There isn’t much else around this crime scene. It’s odd, very odd… With all of this, plus this being a locked room case that occurred at two in the morning... Absolutely anyone could’ve done this. Shinguji-kun’s acting a bit weirdly in particular, but he’s somewhat awkward to begin with. He and Angie-san did talk several times before about culture and Angie-san’s island, so maybe it’s just his way of grieving…_

_He’s awkward and can be creepy, but he’s a kind person deep down._

_He can’t be the killer._

_Right?_

=

“So you ate dinner early as always and went to your dorm room before the rest of us,” Kiibo said curiously. He then took Shinguji’s hands in his. “Thank you for your cooperation, Shinguji-kun!”

Shinguji let out a small noise of pain; Kiibo instantly retracted his hands. “I-Is everything alright?!”

“Y-Yes,” Shinguji held his left hand in his right, wincing. “I injured it yesterday. I was looking among some higher shelves in my lab for certain documents, but I slipped on the ladder and my hand got hurt…”

“T-That’s terrible!” Kiibo cried. “Did you fall? Allow me to take you to the infirmary--”

“No need,” Shinguji held up his right hand just as smoothly as he lied. “‘Twas just a mere slip of the foot. I scrambled and held onto the shelf quickly enough that I didn’t fall straight to the floor.”

“I see,” Kiibo breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry if my flashlight function is too bright, by the way. I can’t seem to turn the brightness lower, and this room is too dark without it, so this is what we must make do with.”

It was then that Shinguji noticed the bright red, blinking button on Kiibo’s arm. “That aside, your recording function is still on.”

“A-Ah,” Kiibo moved to push it, stopping the recording. “Anyway,” he beamed, “thank you once again for cooperating.”

Shinguji smiled, though Kiibo wouldn’t be able to see through Shinguji’s mask. “Naturally.”

Kiibo looked around warily. “So this new seance… this new ritual you found will help us contact Angie-san from beyond the grave?”

“Yes, it will,” Shinguji nodded. “I need four helpers total, but for now, I only have Chabashira-san, Yumeno-san, and Ouma-kun who have agreed to help…”

“Allow me to be of assistance, then!” Kiibo offered. “I’ll be glad to help. Angie-san was the president of the student council, after all… My inner voice has been very unstable as of late. Perhaps hearing her voice again would make it calm down.”

“Thank you, Kiibo-kun,” Shinguji said. “Now, if you will allow me to finish the circle for the seance…”

“O-Of course!” Kiibo shifted, leaving the room. He paused, looking at the unfinished summoning circle. “It’s a pretty design…” He snapped out of his reverie. “Right, I’ll leave. I’ll be interviewing the others on the fourth floor! Please let me know when you will be starting the ritual!”

“Naturally,” Shinguji waved with his right hand. Then, once Kiibo left, he picked up the container of salt and began drawing the salt circle.

He’d regained his senses shortly enough to realize that Angie hadn’t been killed by his wooden floorboard, but merely knocked out-- stabbing her and making it all seem like an accident was a good call. Switching the floorboards to hide the more incriminating evidence and fashioning the katana into a door-locking mechanism and all were also good ideas; he could do those without being caught going down to other floors. 

Shinguji was still rather displeased that the Monopad had bothered adding in the fact that there was a killer, but he supposed he could make it seem like the “killer” was really the ghost of one of their former friends.

(It gave Shinguji quite the headache, thinking about the deceased…)

He focused on the circle. The floorboards of the rooms were all prepared, so all that was left was drawing the circle on the floor of the room Yumeno picked.

_I’m rather impressed with my own memorization skills… never have I seen this ritual’s diagram before a few hours ago, and yet, I know exactly where to pour…_

He looked over the design one more time, then subtly checked to make sure the floorboard was still loose.

Shinguji let out a giggle, satisfied.

_Yumeno-san will end up being the sacrifice, then. She is small and light enough to launch into the sickle. Her choice led to her death due to Angie-san’s malevolent spirit, or something or other… That sort of argument could certainly stall the trial until time runs out. Gonta-kun, Kiibo-kun, and Shirogane-san are all the superstitious type who are in the Student Council, and Momota-kun is afraid of the supernatural, so they will buy that ghost-related explanation and argue for it, which will waste the time of those who are looking for an actual killer…_

_It depends on the rules-- whether they will have to find Angie-san’s killer, or Yumeno-san’s. If it’s the former, it’ll be impossible for them to figure out-- anyone could’ve done it. If it’s the latter, then I can use their own fear and delusion of the occult against them..._

_And then time will run out. They won’t have found a killer either way. Everyone else will die, but I will be able to escape._

_I can fulfill my Sister’s wish…_

(For some reason, his head was perfectly empty, absent of any pain.)

All that was left now was to get the group to bring the real materials to the room.

=

“Where the hell have you been, degenerate,” Chabashira grinned in irritation, cracking her knuckles one by one. “We’ve been waiting…”

Yumeno clicked her tongue. “Yeah, Ouma. Tenko ended up transferring the heaviest stuff because you ditched us! We even had enough time left over for Kiibo to interview us!”

“That’s right,” Kiibo crossed his arms, the red button signalling his recording function blinking red. “Ouma-kun, you need to be more conscientious of the people around you! You’d better have a good explanation for your absence!”

_I don’t want to hear that from a fucking listening device like you._ “Nishishi…” Ouma snickered, raising his hands. “Just skipping around. This whole investigation’s too fun to ignore!” _And I wanted to take Rantaro’s wax effigy back to my room for future study before helping out, but if I tell Chabashira that she’ll just beat me to death._

“You just ditched because you don’t have even an ounce of strength,” Chabashira sniffed. She looked around Shinguji’s lab. “The cage and dog statue are already in the room, but…”

“I thought he’d need more than that…” Yumeno sighed. She stared at the ground. “I… I really want it to work. I wanna talk to Angie… one more time… even if it’s using Shinguji’s mana instead of my own...”

Chabashira pursed her lips, wincing slightly.

Ouma decided not to say anything. _I guess something like jealousy… doesn’t just affect me and my memories alone._

“I see that the sheath for the katana in Angie-san’s lab is still in its glass case,” Kiibo observed, walking around the lab. “Meaning that someone certainly took it out of Shinguji-kun’s lab, and that it was somehow involved in the murder… He said in his interview that he ate dinner and went to sleep early, so it makes sense that someone would be able to steal it without him knowing.”

“Hmm?” Ouma blinked. 

Kiibo nodded. “Shinguji-kun also mentioned his hand getting hurt while he was searching for documents on the higher shelves! He slipped a bit on the ladder, but he is fine right now.”

“Weird, all I saw on the shelves while Tenko did the carrying work was dust,” Yumeno muttered. “And the ladder was fine…”

“You sneezed and nearly fell off,” Chabashira chided. “The kitten sneezes were cute, but that was dangerous…”

Kiibo shook his head. “Perhaps something similar happened earlier… Robophobia is a major issue, but I’m lucky that allergies don’t affect me.” He took out a nearby book, opening it. “Ah, this looks like the salt circle that Shinguji-kun was drawing on the floor for the ritual!” He pushed a button on his torso and a shutter sound came from Kiibo’s head. “There! A photograph just in case.”

“What’s the point of that?” Yumeno wrinkled her nose.

Kiibo wagged a finger. “Shinguji-kun was drawing it with salt, you know! That sort of thing can get entirely messed up if someone were to sneeze or kick it around! Not to mention, it’d be hard to redo in the dark!”

“It’s salt, not pepper,” Chabashira rolled her eyes. “Why would that make anyone sneeze…”

“ANYWAY,” Ouma interrupted loudly, “Let’s all just ditch the ritual! There’s no point in going there at a time like this!”

“NO!” all three of the others immediately turned on him. 

“Absolutely not!” Yumeno stomped her foot. “We _will_ see Angie again!”

“That’s illogical, Ouma-kun!” Kiibo cried. 

“I’ll aikido flip you and break your spine! Weren’t you the one who said you had to talk to Angie-san about something earlier this morning?!” Chabashira knit her brows, upset. 

Ouma shrugged, still grinning as he casually put his hands behind his head. “She called me to talk about something, but if she’s dead now, it doesn’t matter.” 

_If Angie realized something about this academy and chose to tell me about it, knowing my goals and my way of operating DICE… then it’s up to me to figure that stuff out too now that she’s dead, on top of doing Rantaro’s little quest. So far, everyone’s still suspicious… They could all be lying, or acting, or otherwise trying to manipulate or kill me. I’ll have to dial up my own facade a notch if I want to actually twist the real mastermind right back..._

“Th--” Yumeno pulled her hat to cover her eyes. “That’s cruel…”

_...She’s a lot like Saihara when she does that._

Funnily enough, the real Saihara came into Shinguji’s lab just as Ouma had been thinking that. “Ah-- there you all are! Shinguji-kun wants you guys to go to the room Yumeno-san selected.”

“Yes,” Shinguji came up behind him. “Please go to the room. There is one thing I must pick up from here that I forgot to ask for, but I shall come shortly.” Saihara turned, confused, but didn’t say anything. 

(Ouma wasn’t that nice, though.)

“Hmmm? Why’d you ask Saihara-chan to come tell us if you were just gonna show up anyway?” Ouma asked. He gasped theatrically. “N-No way! Are you actually a ghost who’s haunting my beloved Saihara-chan?! Kyaaaaaa! I refuse to acknowledge it! I won’t let you have your way with him!”

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara said flatly, suddenly looking a lot more exhausted than before. “What are you even talking about… It’s not like that…”

“I need four helpers,” Shinguji declared, ignoring Ouma entirely. “Which of you will help me?”

Kiibo puffed up his chest. “I believe the volunteers were Ouma-kun, Chabashira-san, Yumeno-san, and myself!”

“Mmm,” Ouma twirled his hair, twisting his mouth. “But that doesn’t make sense! Kiiboy here is a robot, and occultish seances with spirits ‘n stuff usually rely on real human people, right?” He scowled. “Robots don’t have spirits or souls or hearts! It might fail if we use Kiiboy!”

“H-Hey, that’s robophobic!” Kiibo protested.

Shinguji put a hand on his chin, thinking. “Hm… ‘Twas not something I had considered previously. Kiibo-kun, I do apologize, but just in case it does end up causing an error, I will have to ask that you continue investigating instead.”

Kiibo looked dejected. “I see…”

“A-Ah, I can help, in that case,” Saihara offered. 

Shinguji brightened up. “Splendid! In that case, let us all go to the room Yumeno-san chose now. I shall explain the details of the seance there.”

“Let’s goooo, fast!” Ouma whined. “Gogogogogo! Hurry up, I’m allergic to robots and if we don’t ditch Kiiboy soon I’m gonna sneeze a bajillion times and die! Achoo! Achoo!”

“Die, then,” Chabashira sneered. 

Yumeno looked equally disgusted. “You were the one who suggested we ditch the seance barely five minutes ago.”

“Stop being such a robophobe!” Kiibo shook his fists.

“Come on, guys,” Saihara said weakly. “Let’s just go to the room…”

=

Shinguji explained to the others everything about where to stand and what words to chant over and over. He also talked about the summoning circle, and how the medium would be hunched over, forehead to a stone, in the center of the room. 

“The Caged Child ritual calls for someone to serve as the medium for the spirit to pass through,” Shinguji finished up his explanation, letting the lit candles around the wall serve as light. “Since Angie-san was female, it would be better for the medium to be a girl… Yumeno-san?”

Yumeno nodded. “I’ll--”

“No,” Chabashira shook her head, interrupting with a smile. “I’ll do it.”

Yumeno looked stunned for a moment. “Tenko…?”

Chabashira turned to Yumeno, fondness in her eyes. “You cared about Angie-san a lot more than I did… So it’d make more sense for you to be able to actually talk to her one last time, right?” 

Yumeno was quiet. 

Chabashira let out a small sigh. “I… I know you’re still mad at me for yesterday, but… it’s true that I don’t believe in mana or magic or the occult. I’m an athlete. I’m a realist. Supernatural things… just don’t fit in my reality.” She smiled, taking Yumeno’s hands in hers. “But Yumeno-san, please remember… just because your magic isn’t the same as a witch’s magic, doesn’t mean it’s a lie or fake. Your magic is your own. Be proud of the magician you are.” She placed a hand on Yumeno’s shoulder. “And everything I did, I did because _I love you._ We’ll all get out of here sooner or later, I know it!”

Yumeno bit her lip. “Tenko… I...”

“So you don’t have to forgive me, or apologize!” Chabashira declared. She turned to Shinguji. “I’ll serve as the medium for Angie-san. Is that alright?”

Shinguji’s eyes widened at the whole exchange, but he nodded. “Yes… you are a girl, so it will work.”

_I was planning on it being Yumeno-san, but this way should be fine as well… Chabashira-san is physically stronger than I or Yumeno-san, but in terms of weight and height, I should be heavier and taller. It’s still possible to kill, and it’s still possible to spin the murder as Yumeno-san being the culprit if it’s like this._

“Very well, then,” Shinguji cleared his throat. “The ritual must be done in complete darkness. Chabashira-san, it is also imperative that you remain silent through the entire ordeal, until we lift the tarp, dog statue, and the basket from above your head. 

Chabashira nodded. “I understand.” She beamed at the others. “I will see you all after the seance then! Good luck!”

She crouched over in the exact place she was supposed to, then stayed quiet as Ouma and Saihara worked to move the basket over her, even while Ouma made annoying complaints on the heaviness and ultimately let Saihara do the brunt of the lifting.

Shinguji stealthily hid the sickle in the white tarp, gently placing it over the basket so that the sickle was over Chabashira’s neck. Then Ouma and Saihara placed the dog statue over the tarp and basket. 

Everything was going according to plan. Shinguji directed everyone else to their respective places, then walked to his own. “Blow out the candles one by one,” he ordered. 

They did. The room went pitch black.

“Now let us begin the chant. It is imperative that you not stop chanting until the end, for the ritual shall fail if interrupted.”

They did.

Shinguji’s heart rate sped up; his head felt full of airheaded, giddy thoughts. _I may be a serial killer, but this is strangely stressful and thrilling, he thought. And all for my sister, whom I… love…_

_It’s almost time._

In the middle of the chant, he jumped.

The leap, the pressure and sound of the impact, the makeshift seesaw tilting--

_\--it had worked._

=

Eventually, they finished the chant. 

_What was that sound?_ Saihara wondered, breathing a bit uneasy. _A crashing sound in the middle of the seance. It was too dark to see, but I definitely heard it..._

“Are we speaking to the spirit of Yonaga Angie?” Shinguji asked at last.

Silence.

“Are we speaking to the spirit of Yonaga Angie?” Shinguji repeated.

It was still silent.

“That’s strange,” Shinguji whispered. “Hey… open the door. Or light the candles again, if possible.”

“There’s no way we can light--” Saihara was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a match being struck.

Ouma’s face was illuminated by firelight as he picked up a candle on the wall to light. “What?” he whispered with a ghost-like grin, pocketing the matchbox. “Obviously someone who carries lockpicks is also gonna carry matches.”

Saihara watched in silence as Ouma lit the other candles in the room, filling it with light once more.

“Angie? Tenko?” Yumeno said cautiously. “H-Hey, say something…”

Saihara narrowed his eyes. _All of this aside…_ _Something’s wrong. _He decided to follow closely behind Yumeno as she walked carefully to the other side of the circle.

“The floorboard’s loose?” Saihara wondered aloud. _Then what was the noise I heard?_

“Let us carefully take apart the ritual setup,” Shinguji sighed. “Each person must take back the same item they placed in.”

Ouma and Saihara took the statue off. “Hey,” Ouma murmured under his breath as they set the statue down. “You heard the crashing sound too, right?”

Saihara’s breath hitched. Ever so slightly, he nodded.

Shinguji then took off the tarp, muttering all the while: “I cannot believe that it failed. I followed the instructions perfectly...!”

Ouma and Saihara were about to return to take off the basket, but Yumeno beat them to it, now frantic. “Angie, Tenko, whichever one of you is there, come out of there and talk to us--”

Saihara was dismayed to find that his hunch was right.

Yumeno’s eyes widened, and then she let out a strangled scream, surging forward and kneeling down beside Chabashira-- beside the _body _of Chabashira, which laid limply on the floor, eyes closed. Blood slowly oozed from underneath her neck, spreading on the wooden floorboards.

A headache hit all four of them at once-- Yumeno shook Chabashira frantically, whimpering; Shinguji shivered, holding onto his own shoulders; Ouma wrinkled his nose, and Saihara felt that same pain in his head that he always did.

Out of the corner of his eye, Saihara noticed Ouma slowly closing his eyes, brows knit, and letting out a sigh as the familiar bell tone rang.

_“Attention, students! A body has been discovered! Everyone assemble in the rightmost spare room on the fourth floor. After a brief period of time, another investigation period will begin. A body has been discovered!”_

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip tenko :'( i'm so sorry.
> 
> i didn't care enough to actually write out the ritual in its entirety or use the song that canon did, since. well. we all know it's BS anyway, yknow?
> 
> Additionally... I always thought Himiko's character development would be more like related to the "truth and lies" aspect of the game. She views her magic as wizardry presumably because she doesn't want it to seem like "just a trick", so I thought she'd eventually learn to accept her talent as it is... but in the end all that changed was that she became slightly less lazy because Tenko was energetic???? and that just felt so weird and out of place to me, like everything Angie and Tenko did for her and talked to her about just ended with something that wasn't even consequential to the plot. For someone who survived canon, it was a really weak character arc, and I kinda resented that line of writing.
> 
> Anyway ;;; all this angst and spite aside, on to the next chapter!


	23. 3-5. Investigation/Alternation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A last minute swap leaves Yumeno numb.
> 
> A last minute injury leaves Ouma in Saihara's care.
> 
> A last minute find leaves the culprit's identity all but obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ CHAPTER 22 (3-4), GO BACK AND READ THAT FIRST.
> 
> To Catherine with love: here's the chapter where grape boy gets carried + some saiouma ensues that u have been longing for these past few weeks. you and the rest of the discord server are welcome <33

_Tenko is dead._

_Tenko is…?_

_No. No, I didn’t even get to apologize--!_

=

“Ch-Chabashira-san is _dead?!” _Shinguji gasped. “N-No…” he took a shaky step back. “Impossible. This shouldn’t have… How did… I set up the ritual perfectly…”

Saihara put a hand on Yumeno’s shoulder. “May I have a look?” he said quietly. Yumeno was too stunned to even nod. Saihara shifted, gently lifting Chabashira up to tilt her head back and investigate the wound-- a puncture in the back of the neck, surprisingly deep. Blood was still trickling down; Saihara held his nose and carefully tilted her head back to its original position.

The others came racing, all gathering by the door in varying states of headache pain. “What the fuck?!” Iruma gasped at the scene. “What the fuck--”

Kiibo was whimpering loudly, clutching his head. “Inner… voice…”

Monokuma’s voice came over the monitors. “A second murder in the middle of an investigation for one that’s already been committed… Well, that’s a first.” He chuckled. “Investigate both murders for now. In the trial, I’ll tell you kids which victim’s killer you’ll have to suss out! For now, the second murder’s information has been added to your Monopads!”

And then the monitor turned off.

Saihara looked at his Monopad again.

**VICTIM: **CHABASHIRA TENKO

**AGE: **[REDACTED]

**SEX:** [REDACTED]

**GENDER:** F

**LOCATION OF DEATH:** RIGHTMOST SPARE ROOM (CAMPUS FLOOR: FOURTH)

**CAUSE OF DEATH:** STABBING

**TIME OF DEATH: **10:11 A.M.

**KILLER: **[REDACTED]

“Move.” Harukawa pushed her way through the crowd. She sighed. “I can’t believe this… First a murder, then you participate in some stupid supernatural ritual, now another murder…?”

Saihara winced. 

“I’ll…” Shirogane swallowed. “S-Some of us should investigate all the other places. Both for Angie-san and Chabashira-san…”

“We can investigate this place,” Saihara affirmed. “All four of us who were here with Chabashira-san… Plus Maki,” he finished. He paused. “Actually, Kiibo-kun, would you mind working with us as well?”

Kiibo panted, still in pain. “H-Huh…?”

“With your flashlight function,” Saihara explained patiently. “Ouma-kun lit the candles, but it’s still a bit too dim for a proper investigation.”

Kiibo nodded shakily, turning on his flashlight function. The room flooded with light.

“WHO DIED?!” Momota at last ran up and made it to the door, panting and gasping and sweating. He froze upon seeing the scene in front of him. “Ch-Chabashira…? No way…”

_It’s only the fourth floor,_ Saihara knit his brows._ For someone who used to do all the pushups with ease, he’s definitely looking a lot more tired lately just climbing the stairs…_

Even so, the look on Momota’s face made Saihara’s heart twist. _Kaito was actually decently close to Chabashira-san,_ he remembered. _They were together chatting and investigating for both the first and second trials, and even though Chabashira-san talked about hating degenerate males, she seemed to get along well with Kaito in a friendly or rivalry sense… _

“A-Actually, Saihara-kun--” Shirogane spoke up hesitantly. “It’ll be-- um, I mean-- it’d be rather unequal if all of you were to--” she swallowed. “To investigate Chabashira-san’s death… Compared to the six of you, there’d only be me, Gonta-kun, Iruma-san, and Momota-kun to investigate Angie-san’s death…”

“I shall join you, then,” Shinguji immediately and smoothly offered. “That would make it five and five, no? There should be no more issues with that. It would be troublesome if Angie-san’s case ended up being more important...”

Shirogane nodded. “Th-Thank you…”

“I…” Momota bit his lip. “I guess now there’s no way I can sit out, huh…”

Iruma nodded. “Help us out, Hoemota.”

“Hoe-- huh?!” Momota blanched.

Gonta sighed. “Let us all go to investigate, then. We must find out the truth, for Angie-san and Chabashira-san’s sakes…!”

The five of them left, leaving Saihara, Yumeno, Harukawa, Kiibo, and Ouma in the seance room.

Or at least, Ouma _should’ve_ been there. Saihara whirled his head around. “Hey, where did--”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s a bitch.” Harukawa rolled up her sleeves. “Show me the wound.” 

“Tenko…” Yumeno’s eyes were still wide, disbelieving. She was still holding Chabashira’s cold, lifeless hands, as if they would warm back up and hold her hand back.

“Yumeno-san…” Saihara gave her a look of sympathy. 

Yumeno choked up. “Don’t… I still… have so many things to tell Tenko… Tenko, I still want to hold your hand, and hear your voice… Why did this have to...”

Saihara decided to let Yumeno be. He obeyed Harukawa, showing her the back of Chabashira’s neck. Harukawa hummed as she observed. 

“Stab wound,” she whispered, voice quiet to the point that even Saihara had to strain to hear her. “Deeper than Angie’s, definitely, though I can’t say for sure if it was instant…”

Yumeno at last set Chabashira’s hand down and got up, looking numb and lost.

“Yumeno-san, if there’s any way I can help…” Kiibo hesitated. “Aside from giving off this light, I mean…”

“Just let me search,” she croaked.

Yumeno walked around the room, then stood still in front of the seance materials. She picked up the white tarp, turned it around in her hands, then took pointed steps to Saihara, who had been watching her all the while.

“Blood,” she held out the tarp.

Saihara gingerly took the tarp out of her hands. There was indeed blood on it-- Chabashira’s blood, based on how it was still wet.

“Most important is the floor,” Saihara decided, handing the tarp back to Yumeno. “The floorboard… was out of place when we got the candlelight back on.”

“I heard a sound,” Yumeno said shakily. “A loud one, like ‘boom’ while we were chanting.”

Saihara’s eyes widened. “You did, Yumeno-san?” 

The whole situation felt like something simultaneously easy and difficult. Though a second death in the middle of an investigation was shocking, it wasn’t too hard to determine the likeliest killer, in Saihara’s opinion. He didn’t like to throw assumptions on anyone, but the most suspect person here for Chabashira’s murder was... rather obvious.

_I mean… there were only four of us in the room with her, and it was pitch black. It’s simple process of elimination. I know I didn’t make that noise, which was in all likelihood tied to Chabashira-san’s death. Ouma-kun mentioned the noise while we were moving the stuff back, implying that he was confirming its presence and didn’t know about it prior. And now Yumeno-san mentioned it... though even if she hadn’t, I’d consider her too shocked to be the killer… She loved Chabashira-san enough that there’s no way she’d even dream of murdering her._

“So did I,” Saihara finally said. “And Ouma-kun mentioned it, too…”

“The loose floorboard, and a loud boom…” Harukawa stepped around the room. “And it was pitch black in here before Ouma lit the candles again?”

“Ah, don’t mess up the salt circle!” Kiibo yelped. “Shinguji-kun worked hard on it…”

Harukawa tsked. 

Suddenly, a loud shriek echoed through the halls, followed by a crashing noise. 

Saihara was instantly alert. “What was that?”

Kiibo grit his teeth. “B-Both of you, go check it out! It was pretty near here. I’ll stay here with Yumeno-san.”

Harukawa and Saihara nodded, rushing out. Ouma was out in the hall outside the leftmost room, lying on his face.

Saihara’s head hurt and his heart clenched. _No way. A third murder--_

“It’s a lie!” Ouma lifted his head with a grin. He stood up, legs wobbling worse than a newborn fawn’s, and leaned himself against the wall.

“Bitch,” Harukawa muttered under her breath. Saihara elbowed her lightly.

“Ouma-kun, you’re--” he grimaced, teeth visible. “Your head… is bleeding a lot…”

“Ahaha…” Ouma’s eyes widened a bit along with his shaky smile, giving a completely different vibe than his thumbs up implied. “It’s… nothin’ much…”

“What happened,” Harukawa asked flatly.

“I--” Ouma groaned. “Investigated the other two rooms, to see if all the floorboards were loose like the one in ours, and… I guess they were all in worse condition than I thought, because I accidentally stepped on one and fell through ‘n hit my head before I could realize…”

“That’s weird,” Saihara placed a hand over his mouth. “Shouldn’t there be a crosspiece under the floors to support them?”

“Unless it was cut, I guess,” Harukawa shrugged. 

“Good luck investigating,” Ouma waved cheerily. “I’ll… go to the infirmary now…”

“What do you mean,” Saihara asked. He raised his brows. “Wait, you mean_ alone?”_

Ouma snickered as he nodded, then groaned louder, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Ouma-kun--!” Saihara caught him as he stumbled and fell, head still bleeding. “He’s definitely gotten a concussion,” Saihara took in a sharp breath. “Maki, can you finish the investigation?”

“Sure?” Harukawa blinked. 

“The crosspiece,” Saihara said. “If Ouma-kun was right… Check if he was right, and if there’s a crosspiece section missing from under the floorboards in the center of all three rooms. I’ll take him to the infirmary in the meantime; there’s no way he can go alone in this state…”

“I’ll try,” Harukawa nodded. She sighed. “You don’t have to take him all the way there, you know…”

“I’m not gonna let him bleed out either,” Saihara clicked his tongue, turning in an attempt to drag Ouma upwards. “I’ll be back in… I’m not sure, half an hour max.”

“You won’t need help carrying him?” Harukawa called out.

Saihara shook his head. “There’s an infirmary room on each floor, right? I should be able to manage from here to there.” 

“Alright,” Harukawa said. She turned to go back to the rooms. “I’ll go look.”

Saihara hesitated a bit, unsure of where to lift Ouma from. _Bridal carry? Fireman carry? Toss him over the shoulder like a sack of grapes? No, that’d just make his concussion worse…_

“Doesn’ ma’er ‘s long’s m’ head ‘n neck get s’pport,” Ouma slurred quietly, head lolling. Apparently he’d been able to read Saihara’s internal dilemma. “Infirm’ry’s close ‘nyway…”

“Don’t talk,” Saihara chided. He sighed, then crouched down, holding his arms out behind himself. “Are you conscious enough that you can climb onto me? A loose piggyback ride is probably the most convenient way to carry you...”

Ouma didn’t respond, letting himself lean against Saihara’s back. Saihara pulled Ouma’s legs in front, maintaining a hold under Ouma’s knees. “Hold on, okay?” Saihara breathed. “I’ll go up slowly.”

Ouma’s hands came around Saihara’s neck, head resting on Saihara’s shoulder. As promised, Saihara slowly lifted himself, careful not to exacerbate Ouma’s pain.

Then Saihara began walking. _Do I talk? Like small talk, or lecturing him? What am I thinking, he’s almost unconscious-- aaaaaaaagh, this is so awkward!_

Ouma let out a tiny groan in between his shallow breaths. Saihara fought the urge to walk faster, if only so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the noise so close to his ear. _His hands are around my neck… loosely, but still… The sensation of weight there feels weirdly intimate… Not to mention, his breath tickles…_

“Koto...ri…” Ouma mumbled, shifting and furrowing his brows. “Don’... tell Mom…”

_He’s hallucinating something?_ Saihara raised a brow, tempted to look back and see the expression on the other boy’s face. _A memory_. _‘Kotori’... he has a sister?_

“Take care… of Kou…”

_‘Kou’? A younger sibling, maybe?_

“‘n Kohei… Kosei... Koyuki…”

_Hey, what the hell--_

“...’n Kouta… Kouji… Kozue… ‘n Kousuke….”

_Oh my god, how many siblings does he have?! And why do their names all start with ‘ko’?!_

At last, Saihara reached the infirmary. He set Ouma down on the bedside, making him lie down. “Stay put,” he said firmly, then began rummaging through the drawers to look for bandages and antiseptic to clean the blood and sterilize the wound. At last, he found wads of cotton and an acceptable looking bottle of antiseptic. He opened it and tilted the bottle onto one of the cotton balls.

“‘m sorry,” Ouma slurred, eyes slipping closed. “Mom…”

Saihara nearly spilled the bottle of antiseptic._ Is he crying?_ He carefully moved to the other boy, looking closer._ No, he’s not, but… his voice definitely sounded that way. He’s gonna give me a heart attack._

Saihara brought the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball near Ouma’s face.

Then, Ouma’s eyes shot open. Immediately, he gasped, shooting upwards.

Saihara shrieked, then pushed Ouma down by the shoulders. “Ouma-kun! Calm down, it’s just me, we’re--”

“That lab,” Ouma’s breathing was heavy and frantic. He clutched his head, wrinkling his nose. “That lab, that lab, th… the smell… that smell...”

“Calm down,” Saihara swallowed, his own heart pounding and head hurting the more he watched and listened and talked. “Ouma-kun, _breathe_. We’re in the infirmary. The one on the fourth floor of the Ultimate Academy.”

Ouma let out a whine, hands tangling in his bloodied hair further.

“Let me clean up the blood, you got a concussion,” Saihara said softly. “I’m here to help, okay? I need to bandage your head...”

Ouma’s breathing slowed, then evened out. He brought a hand down, covering his nose with his scarf. “H’rry up, then…”

Saihara gulped, pain thudding in his head. He wiped away as much blood as possible, wincing when Ouma winced. Then, he carefully wrapped the bandage around Ouma’s head wound-- he wasn’t a medical professional, but he did his best to follow the strange Monokuma-themed instruction manual left beside the bandages.

Like magic, Ouma seemed a lot less delirious. Whether that was a result of the bandage itself or because Ouma was lying from the start, Saihara had no clue.

“Thanks, Saihara-chan!” Ouma grinned. “Hey, hey, I forgot to say,” he continued somewhat cheerfully, “when I hit my head and fell, there was a split second when I saw something under the floorboards of that room. Something shiny…? Gold-ish.”

_He’s giving me too much new information at once,_ Saihara thought._ Whether it’s stuff about his family and past I’m not meant to hear, or something about his memory headaches, or about the murders… _

Even so, whatever Ouma was talking about now was important to the investigation-- if it was the truth. _Something shiny under the floorboards..._ He needed to go to Harukawa and see it for himself.

“I’ll go check it out with Maki,” Saihara said at last. “Stay safe.”

Ouma winced, clutching his bandaged forehead. “B-But Saihara-chaaaan!” he whined. “What if someone comes in here and takes advantage of me?!”

Saihara’s face turned pink. “Wh--”

Ouma snickered faintly, trying to do his signature smirk but failing-- _so he wasn’t lying after all, he was just trying to act like his usual confusing self!_ “I meant like killing me, not sexing me up. You’re so dirty-minded...”

Saihara let out a sigh. _You’re impossible, Ouma-kun._ “Stay safe,” he said again, and left.

=

As soon as Saihara was out of the room, Ouma touched his head faintly, hanging onto every last ounce of warmth that was left on it.

_I better not have said anything stupid or revealing while I was concussed out of my mind. The last thing I need is someone here knowing about DICE and Mom..._

Strangely though, he felt that if Saihara were to know, he wouldn’t even mind. That, and the antiseptic triggering that memory… It made Ouma’s already concussed head spin. He didn’t know what to think of it.

Ouma got up._ I can’t be doing nothing. I have my own plans to work on too, not just all of this..._

_For my own sake, for all of their sakes, for DICE’s sake-- I can’t just sit around here. I have to figure out the truth on my own._

=

Shinguji was rather relieved that nothing much more had come out of the investigation. Though Shirogane had thrown him some glances here and there, an awkward smile or two, the others didn’t seem to pay him much heed at all-- nor could they figure out anything else meaningful about Angie’s death.

It was great. This trial would work in his favor-- in _Sister’s_ favor. 

A chill ran up his spine as he thought of his sister. Nothing in life mattered except for her and her wish to have more friends.

<strike>No, that wasn’t right-- what was he--</strike>

No, it was right. How foolish of him. Sister mattered.

The memories he’d gained from that flashback light were a boon, indeed…

=

“You found floorboards with dry blood underneath them?” Saihara asked incredulously. “In the room where Ouma-kun got his concussion?”

Harukawa nodded. “Yumeno noticed a corner of this room that could open up to lead to underneath the floorboards first, and we both snuck underneath to see with Kiibo lighting the way for us.”

“Dry… blood…” Saihara repeated, mind racing.

“There was a floorboard with wet blood… T-Tenko’s,” Yumeno spoke up. “But the dry ones surprised us. There were also bandages.” Saying so, she held them out. “Really bloody, heavy bandages. We were gonna open them when you came back…”

“We can open them together,” Saihara said.

Harukawa unwrapped the bandages, then took out the thing inside. “A chisel?”

Yumeno’s eyes widened. “Angie’s…?”

“It’s extremely bloody,” Saihara noted, eyes wide. He took in a shaky breath, analyzing it. “Both the bandages and the chisel. But the blood is dry. And…” he squinted a bit. “There_ is_ something gold on the bandages. What on earth…”

Just then, a bell tone rang. _“Attention, students! The investigation period has ended. Please make your way to the fountain in the courtyard to go to the trial room. The investigation period has ended!”_

Harukawa quickly wrapped the chisel back in the bandages. “Let’s go to the trial room. Yumeno, Kiibo. Thanks for your help.”

Kiibo at last turned off his flashlight function, walking out with the other two. “No problem.”

_I should go check on Ouma-kun, _Saihara decided.He returned to the infirmary on the fourth floor where he left Ouma only to find that the other boy wasn’t there anymore. Though alarmed, Saihara decided to go to the statues in the yard. Lo and behold, Ouma had stumbled all the way there.

_Stubborn, impossible, idiot--_

Ouma groaned softly, and Saihara felt a surge of sympathy._ He’s clearly still lightheaded, but he still came all the way to the trial._

Momota shifted his eyes across the group. “Looks like we’re all here.” He sighed. “We’re all here again… For Yonaga and Chabashira...”

It was horrible. Another travesty. 

Perhaps worst of all was the realization that they were all getting used to doing this. 

As they all stepped into the elevator and shuttled downwards, Saihara pondered. His mind raced with thoughts of all the evidence they had gathered. He was a thinker first and foremost; he wasn’t the sort who could instantly gather a solution just by looking at everything.

Two separate murders. Angie’s: wax sculptures, a katana through one, gold flakes on the sword and on the lock of the door, bloody tape with hairs on it, the katana itself, and the shape of the wound on Angie’s neck. Chabashira’s: loose wooden planks in multiple rooms, a puncture wound, the crashing sound, the bloody tarp, bloody floorboards in a different room, the bloody chisel found underneath the floorboards, and the bloody bandages with gold flakes on them that had contained the chisel in it…

Those were all the pieces of evidence that they found. And considering the very last piece of evidence… It almost seemed like a given who murdered Chabashira. Of course, nothing was as it seems, so the person Saihara suspected may not actually be the culprit. In fact, it was entirely possible that the culprit of Chabashira’s case didn’t matter, considering the trial rules.

_But if I’m right about who it is,_ Saihara thought. _If I’m right on who Chabashira-san’s killer is..._

_...then why would they do it?_

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my daily tirade of "what if shuichi wasn't stupid and actually took kokichi to the fucking infirmary like a responsible person" //gets shot
> 
> fun fact! a lot of my family members have a medical background. as such, i'm fully aware that IRL concussions don't necessarily work the way they do here, and neither does antiseptic or mere wound-bandaging. however! this is all fiction anyway! so suspend your disbelief, because in dream worlds like this, medicine has no real rules to adhere to!
> 
> We'll be back on normal schedule with Tuesday/Thursday updates again! Next update is on Tuesday with both the trial chapter and the execution chapter (3-6 and 3-7/chapters 24 & 25)! Look forward to it! Unless you're a Shinguji fan!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading!


	24. 3-6. The Third Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kind lie saves a bright soul from further pain.
> 
> A bloody chisel damns a victim to accept his culprithood.
> 
> A deduction hurts more when the accusation is towards a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update! Be sure to read 3-7 (chapter 25) after this!
> 
> deep SIGHS my boys we're here. and it's not gonna be all that pretty.

“For the sake of this trial,” Monokuma’s eye gleamed, and everyone grit their teeth, feeling a headache. “You will all need to find the culprit for the first murder that was discovered-- in other words, the culprit of the murder of Yonaga Angie. Have fun!”

_Well, either way, Shinguji’s the target. _Shirogane sighed. _The stuff with the flashback light worked. _Her glasses gleamed._ Perfect. And Saihara will solve everything, exactly as planned… Shinguji will have no clue. _

_This trial, this season-- it’ll all go better now that more of the threats are gone…_

=

“So, um…” Gonta spoke up first. “We’re solving Angie-san’s murder, so… D-Did the Necronomicon ritual Angie-san was trying actually work…?”

“I-- um, I think it did,” Shirogane replied. “B-Because… the ritual-- um, the ritual, it-- it mentioned ‘two taps from behind’, or something-- Angie-san had a wound on the back of her head and the back of her neck…” she shivered. “What if th-those were the ‘taps’, and the student really revived?!”

“No,” Harukawa clicked her tongue. “That’s idiotic. Gonta, you were the one who checked those wax effigies, remember? The Necronomicon said that for the ritual to be complete, it had to be burnt to ash and then sprinkled on the effigy for any of that tapping nonsense to happen.”

Gonta’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape. “Ah, and the book was still there when we read it… Thank you, Harukawa-san.” His cheeks turned pink. “Gonta’s sorry for asking a stupid question.”

“No need to be sorry, Gonta! Everyone asks stupid questions, so there has to be someone who asks the stupidest questions of all time!” Ouma grinned.

“I think the culprit’s Shinguji here,” Iruma narrowed her eyes. Everyone’s head snapped over to look at her, then at Shinguji.

“H-Huh?” Shinguji’s eyes widened. He scoffed. “Iruma-san, please don’t spout such baseless accusations right from the beginning.” 

“Excuse you?” Iruma growled. She put a proud fist on her chest. “I’m an unbeatable girl genius. I know what the fuck I’m about. Think of it like this... the katana found at the scene was from your lab. After grabbin’ it real quick, you went into Angie’s lab--”

“That can’t be true,” Yumeno interrupted. “Angie’s lab was only open to student council members at the time!”

“Actually, Yumeno-san…” Saihara’s gaze drifted to Ouma, locking in on him. “It was technically accessible by outsiders. Ouma-kun was able to pick the lock, wasn’t he? He always carries lockpicking tools around.”

Ouma snickered. “Nishishi…”

“B-But,” Momota coughed. “That’s irrelevant, innit? It coulda been a student council member who was allowed inside, killed her, then locked the door from the inside.”

_Right, _Saihara thought. _That reminds me--!_

“How dare you!” Yumeno furrowed her brows. “None of us would’ve killed Angie!”

“I’m inclined to agree with Yumeno-san,” Kiibo frowned. “Not to mention, I have all of our alibis recorded with me. Shirogane-san and Gonta-kun were in their respective rooms. Chabashira-san and Yumeno-san were the last people to have seen Angie-san prior to her death, along with Saihara-kun and Harukawa-san. I was with Iruma-san. None of us did it.”

“Alibis aside, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara took the opportunity to speak up, “the real issue here is the door with the sliding lock, and the way that the culprit locked it from the outside.”

“Bitch better not say it was magic,” Iruma muttered under her breath.

“If the culprit truly was the ghost of a resurrected student, it would be possible, would it not?” Shinguji suggested.

“Fucker,” Iruma muttered again, eye twitching.

“It was the back door that was locked last, then,” Harukawa sighed. 

“So, what? They used tape and string or something?” Ouma’s eyes were wide, sparkling in a childish way. “I’ve seen people do that in detective manga before!”

Saihara shook his head. “No, Ouma-kun.” _Something tells me even he doesn’t believe his own explanation… _“They used the gold leaf katana from Shinguji-kun’s lab.”

“Huh?” Gonta blinked. He furrowed his brows. “A-- A katana wouldn’t fit through the crack of the door, though!”

“Yeah,” Yumeno agreed. “And it was found in the wax elegy--”

“You mean effigy,” Shirogane and Shinguji corrected her at the same time.

“Whatever,” Yumeno waved away their words. “It was found stabbed into Akamatsu’s effigy, so it couldn’t have been used.”

“Not true,” Saihara shook his head again. “Harukawa-san found that there were gold flakes on the sliding lock. That could’ve only come from the katana’s hilt.”

Harukawa nodded. “It’s true. You can see it for yourselves.”

Saihara continued. “If you all recall correctly, the wax effigies were all tied to the open beams in Angie-san’s lab with rope. Akamatsu-san’s effigy was closest to the door, so by stabbing it into her effigy, the culprit would’ve been able to have it slide the lock shut.”

“I-- um, I still don’t get it,” Shirogane said meekly. “How could that have worked…? Even if they pushed the effigy back and let it swing forward to close it, that would’ve been too fast for them to get out of the door…”

“Have any of you played on swings before?” Saihara asked. “Like, on a playground.”

“Swings?” Ouma raised a brow. “Ah, I know!” he grinned. “You’re just wasting our time, Saihara-chan!”

“Gonta hasn’t done city playground swings, but he knows rope and vine swings…” Gonta pondered. “Though when he was little, he didn’t know to go back and forth, so he’d just spin in circles until the rope was tight and wait for it to spin back to normal…”

“That’s it!” Momota’s eyes widened. He grinned. “They spun the effigy around, knowing the rope would twist, then let it unravel!” Momota beamed. “Heh. No need to thank me…”

“Precisely, Momota-kun,” Saihara nodded. “And thank you for explaining it, Gonta-kun,” he smiled. “That’s right. The culprit tied all the effigies to the beams with rope to make it all look like part of the ritual, but they stabbed Akamatsu-san’s effigy specifically and spun it around so that they had enough time to leave the door while it unraveled. The hilt of the katana would then eventually hit the lock and slide it shut, and afterwards, the rope would be completely untwisted, making it look like the effigy was hung normally.”

“In other words, Saihara-kun,” Shinguji spoke up. “You mean to say that the culprit entered Angie-san’s lab through the ordinary door and killed her. They then hung up the wax effigies in such a way that they could be spun around, then stuck the katana inside so as to allow it to close the sliding lock after they left, creating a locked room mystery.”

Saihara nodded. “Yes.”

“Hm…” Shinguji tapped his chin. “Certainly, that works, I suppose. But there is no way of narrowing down the suspect. Anyone could’ve done it.”

“Wait, what?” Momota asked, incredulous. “There was really no more evidence than that?”

“We showed you while the others investigated Chabashira-san’s death, Momota-kun,” Gonta reminded him. “There… there really wasn’t anything else. Nothing left behind…”

Silence. Never before had there been a point where there was genuinely no way for the conversation to continue-- there had always been something, some small detail or tidbit, that kept them going to find out the killer.

But here… there was nothing left. 

Anyone could’ve killed Yonaga Angie.

“Then…” Yumeno licked her lips. “Can we talk about Tenko’s death?”

Shinguji narrowed his eyes. “Certainly not. I refuse to waste trial time discussing a murder that Monokuma isn’t even requiring us to solve.”

“I don’t see much point in it either,” Ouma sniffed, looking at his nails in disinterest. He looked sharply at Yumeno. “For someone who fought with her so bitterly, you sure are upset now. What a hypocrite!”

“Don’t be mean to her, Ouma-kun,” Gonta protested. “Chabashira-san… died so suddenly… of course Yumeno-san would be sad!”

“I think discussing Chabashira-san’s murder could be a good way to continue things,” Saihara said. “At the very least… it might give us ideas about what happened to Angie-san.”

“Foolish,” Shinguji sighed.

“My sidekick’s helped solve the past two murders,” Momota bragged. “I wouldn’t get annoyed with ‘im so fast.”

Harukawa nodded. “Kaito’s right… We should listen to Shuichi for now.”

“As long as we don’t end up wasting time and dying from not finding out the culprit we’re s’posed to be looking for,” Iruma scoffed, “I’m fine. Hit us with it, Shyhara.”

Saihara put a finger on his cheek, pensive. “The people who were in the seance room when Chabashira-san was murdered were myself, Ouma-kun, Shinguji-kun, and Yumeno-san. Chabashira-san was killed during the seance. It was pitch black the whole time we were there, which proves that nobody _else _entered the room to kill Chabashira-san.”

“So it had to have been one of you four,” Iruma narrowed her eyes. 

“There really wasn’t any other place a culprit coulda entered from?” Momota asked skeptically. “And you guys didn’t hear anything?”

“Stupid Momota-chan,” Ouma yawned, then winced, holding onto his bandaged head. _His concussion’s still somewhat affecting him,_ Saihara realized. “We were chanting for the seance, so of course we didn’t hear something as dumb as a murderer coming in.”

Yumeno shook her head. “There wasn’t a place anyone could’ve come in from, either. If there was, we would’ve at least seen light coming in from somewhere.”

“Chabashira-san was fine prior to the seance as well,” Shinguji offered. “She took Yumeno-san’s place, in fact.” He tsked. “The seance was set up perfectly, and yet, it went wrong…”

“So…” Gonta hesitated. “When was she killed? Gonta saw some of the materials you all used… Was it when the cage from the seance was lifted?”

“No, that’s wrong,” Saihara pointed out. “There was a white tarp placed over the basket covering Chabashira-san. We took it off and then found Chabashira-san dead… But when Yumeno-san found it after the murder, there was blood on it. That proves that the cage or tarp being lifted weren’t the actual times the murder happened.”

Kiibo hummed. “So she wasn’t killed before or after, but during the seance itself,” he mused. “Were there any particular moments that stood out to any of you while the seance was occurring?”

“I was thinking of how horrible it would be if someone was murdered in a dark room with no reliable witnesses,” Ouma quipped, a giggle on his lips. Immediately to his left, Yumeno looked like she wanted to slap him.

“No, that can’t be right,” Iruma slammed her hands on her trial stand. “I don’t care what you fuckers say. There’s no way Chabashira was killed while she was_ inside_ that tiny-ass cage. Even if she was sitting in there with her neck all exposed--”

“She wasn’t sitting, Iruma,” Yumeno interrupted. “Tenko was hunched over… bent over like she was praying. Her forehead was against a marker stone on the floor. The back of her neck was exposed, more or less.”

“S-So…” Iruma faltered. “The only person who coulda killed her from inside the cage is…”

“Herself,” Saihara nodded. “But it wasn’t a suicide.”

“Then whatever could it have been?” Shinguji tilted his head. “We were attempting to summon Angie-san’s ghost…” He gasped, hand over his mouth. “Are you perhaps insinuating that Angie-san took over Chabashira-san’s body and then killed her?”

“G-Ghost?!” Momota’s voice rose an octave.

“Yes,” Shinguji said gravely, “Angie-san’s ghost.” He crossed his arms and shivered. “She possessed Chabashira-san and put that injury on Chabashira-san’s neck. Chabashira-san couldn’t speak without disturbing the ritual, hence her lack of response to any of us… And then, with the last of her strength…” he trailed off.

_If he keeps this up, he’ll have us on a roundabout of supernatural BS, _Saihara realized. _But ghosts aside, I can’t prove whether or not Chabashira-san died instantly or not--!_

Shirogane quivered in place. “She died in pain… fully aware she was bleeding out… I f-feel sick…”

It struck Saihara then.

_I have to lie._

Saihara stood up a bit straighter. He’d have to use the signal he’d mentioned to Momota and Harukawa back when the investigation first started. “Actually,” he said, twirling his hair with one hand, looking at Harukawa in particular. “Maki, you mentioned it earlier, right? When you were looking at Chabashira-san’s wound, you said that she died instantly.”

“She--” Shinguji froze. “What?”

Luckily, Harukawa understood. She drew in a quick breath, nodding curtly. “Yeah… As an assassin, I know a lot about injuries. The one Chabashira sustained was fatal from the start. She didn’t suffer.”

Yumeno, who had looked dull ever since Chabashira’s death, seemed to brighten ever so slightly. “She… Tenko wasn’t in pain?”

Harukawa stared at Yumeno, at the way her lip was bit like she almost couldn’t believe it; Saihara didn’t miss the way Harukawa’s throat wobbled, somewhat guiltily, as she confirmed her words again. “Yeah… From my analysis of the wound, Chabashira died instantly.”

Yumeno’s eyes shone, and she let out a smiling sigh of relief, pleased even though she was clearly still hurting. 

=

_It’s assassin chick, which makes me wanna gag. Normally, I’d call her out, but…_

Ouma moved his gaze elsewhere, literally turning a blind eye.

_...when it’s a kind lie like this... I can’t help but respect it._

=

“Chabashira-san died instantly,” Saihara reiterated. 

Harukawa nodded. “Saihara and Ouma weren’t there for this, but… we also found a sickle with blood on it hidden near the other props for the seance. The depth matched the wound, so there’s no mistake that’s what killed Chabashira, not some spirit of the dead.”

Saihara cleared his throat. “Yeah… ghosts don’t exist. Maybe you don’t quite recall because you left the seance room to investigate Angie-san’s death, Shinguji-kun. While the rest of us were investigating the seance room, we found that a part of the crosspiece underneath the floorboards were cut.”

Kiibo nodded. “I distinctly remember that!”

“So do I,” Harukawa sniffed.

“Me too,” Yumeno said. She paused. “Actually, I remember hearing a sound during the seance…” She turned to Saihara. “I told you, right? It was like ‘boom!’ during the chanting.”

Saihara nodded. “Ouma-kun and I heard it, too. Naturally, since all three of us heard it, Shinguji-kun must’ve also heard it.”

Shinguji nodded. “I did… however, I am still certain that that was the moment Angie-san’s ghost possessed Chabashira-san. There is simply no other explanation.”

_I don’t get when you became this weirdly attached to ghosts, Shinguji-kun, but at least it’s easy to refute._ Saihara sighed. _Or maybe you’re detracting from the conversation because you really did… _“Actually, it’s probably more reasonable to assume that noise was caused by the loose floorboard being hit by something.”

“Hit by something, hmm…” Ouma hummed. 

Gonta lit up. “Ouma-kun, didn’t you hurt yourself through the floorboards during the investigation?”

“No, I didn’t,” Ouma said, holding his bandaged head again. “That was a logical ruse. These are actually just props from a mummy cosplay I was doing. Isn’t that right, Shirogane-chan?”

Shirogane looked startled. “H-Huh?”

“Thank you for helping him in the infirmary while Gonta wasn’t there, Saihara-kun,” Gonta bowed to him in a gentlemanly fashion. “Ouma-kun has a tendency of not saying where he’s going and then getting into bad situations…”

“A-Ah, that… it was nothing,” Saihara faltered, cheeks reddening somewhat. 

Ouma stuck his tongue out at Gonta, though the latter didn’t see it. “Thank you, Gonta, my darling husband,” Ouma beamed. “Or are you my mom, thanking Saihara-chan like he’s some nice neighborhood policeman who helped an unruly child?”

“It’s because we’re friends that Gonta knows,” Gonta smiled. “But anyway! Gonta understands now! Just like how Ouma-kun got hurt, someone must’ve stomped through the floorboard!” 

“Gonta-kun’s right,” Saihara nodded. “And with a cut crosspiece underneath the loose floorboard… You guys have played on playgrounds before, right?”

“Another swing metaphor?” Iruma’s expression soured. “Fuck, Shyhara, if you’re bi, you can just say it directly.”

“N-No, I meant--” Saihara sighed. “It’s like a seesaw, isn’t it?”

“See!” Iruma waved her hands about. “Back and forth, up and down. Whichever directions you pick, you’re bi!” 

“Iruma-san, think about it,” Kiibo tried getting her attention. “A seesaw effect.”

“Newton’s third law,” Momota snapped his fingers, at last understanding. “For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction.”

Iruma’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Fuck. So someone jumped onto the floorboard on one side, and the force caused Chabashira, on the other side, to be launched_ into the weapon that killed her?”_

“Precisely,” Saihara nodded. “Which means that the sickle had to have been on top of the cage, but below the tarp, since the tarp had blood on it.”

“Chabashira just so happened to be on the opposing end of the loose floorboard, huh,” Harukawa narrowed her eyes. “Who set up the whole seance, again?”

Everyone’s gazes snapped to Shinguji.

=

_They’re figuring out too much. At this rate… I’ll end up actually being discovered._

_I cannot allow that to happen. For my sake. For Sister’s sake--!_

=

Shinguji only held out his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Now, now… I only set up the seance in the room that Yumeno-san picked out. Which means…”

Yumeno’s eyes widened, shocked. “N-No… No, you’re wrong!” She shook her head vehemently. “I-It wasn’t me! Believe me!”

“It _wasn’t_ her, Shinguji-kun,” Saihara said. “After all, Ouma-kun’s injury proves that the other rooms were rigged the same way.”

“Right!” Gonta motioned to Ouma’s bandaged head. “He fell through the floorboard there, too! That shows the floorboards were set up in every room!”

“Meaning that _you_ steered her into picking a room with the intention of either killing her or framing her,” Ouma grinned, finger poised in front of his mouth. “Using the Caged Child ritual as an excuse.”

“My question is,” Momota said, “How come none of y’all stepped on it before he did?”

“Don’t go about assuming that _I _was the one who stepped on it,” Shinguji snapped. 

“Because of the magic circle,” Kiibo realized, hand frozen in front of him. He looked back and forth at everyone else around him. “Nobody stepped on where the floorboard was in the center of the room because the magic circle was drawn around it.”

“And the person who drew that circle,” Iruma sneered, turning to Shinguji, “was you again, wasn’t it?”

“The person who killed Tenko was _you!”_ Yumeno balled her hands into fists. “Shinguji!”

Shinguji paused. “If it was me, then how, pray tell, did I find the floorboard in the darkness?”

“Kiibo-kun knows, I’m sure,” Saihara gave a pointed look in Kiibo’s direction.

“You made it out of salt,” Kiibo narrowed his eyes. “It didn’t matter that the room was pitch black. Because you drew the circle out of salt, you were able to position yourself accordingly and find your way by touch!”

“So you claim,” Shinguji replied darkly. “But how did I find my way back after jumping, if I did jump the way you said? When Ouma-kun lit the candles again, I was properly in my place.”

Saihara was at a loss at that.

“I have proof! I took pictures of both your setup from the investigation and the version of the circle in the book from your lab!” Kiibo furrowed his brows. He pressed a button near his collarbone, and his mouth solidified into a thick, horizontal line.

_Whiiiiirrrrrrrrr!_

_What the fuck, _Saihara knit his brows. The others were similarly confused and weirded out (save for Iruma, who only grinned). A photograph came out of Kiibo’s mouth as if he was an instant camera, immediately followed by another.

“Papercuth on ma tung,” Kiibo winced, shaking out the photos to let the images form. He held the photos in his hand. “Behold!”

Yumeno’s breath hitched. “There’s lines on all four corners in the actual setup, but not in the book.” She turned to Shinguji. “Meaning that you placed them there in order to feel your way back to your corner after you committed the murder!”

“I did not murder Chabashira-san,” Shinguji maintained. “I had no means of retrieving the weapon--”

“You did,” Saihara accused. “You were the one who placed it there, too-- using the tarp as a cover. Ouma-kun and I handled the cage and the dog statue, but you were the one who handled the tarp both ways. You hid the sickle in there, and then picked up the sickle using the tarp after the murder.” Saihara narrowed his eyes. “All the evidence points to you, Shinguji-kun. You were the one who murdered Chabashira-san.”

Shinguji stood still.

Then, he laughed.

“Kehehe… True! True! I did kill Chabashira Tenko-san,” Shinguji’s eyes gleamed. “But unfortunately for all of you, that doesn’t matter! The killer we must find is the person who killed Angie-san! _You can’t vote for me!”_ he cackled.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Yumeno shrieked, enraged. She clutched her head, clearly agonized. “HOW DARE YOU KILL TENKO!”

“Shinguji-kun, why?” Shirogane trembled.

Gonta’s eyes watered. He furrowed his brows angrily. “Chabashira-san was a friend! We all trusted each other!”

“Fuck it, let’s vote for him!” Momota roared. “He’s a goddamn murderer!”

“Yeah!” Iruma grit her teeth, giving him the finger. “No need to waste our time with figuring the other shit out!”

Harukawa narrowed her eyes. “Kaito’s right. If he’s creepy enough to kill Chabashira, he probably killed Angie too.”

“I agree!” Yumeno yelled. “I don’t care anymore--” she whirled around. “Monokuma!”

“N-No!” Kiibo held out his hands. “We have to find out Angie-san’s killer properly!”

“You cannot assume I’m Angie-san’s killer, unless you all want to die by voting for the wrong culprit!” Shinguji gloated.

“We can’t just let our feelings get in the way,” Saihara’s voice rose. “We have to talk it out before we vote!”

“You’re all too loud,” Ouma murmured softly, holding onto his head. “My head hurts again, shit…”

“Hmm,” Monokuma interrupted, a gleam in his eye. “Seems like you’re all split! You know what that means!”

The Monokubs cheered as the music started up again. “Scrum! Scrum! Scrum! Scrum!”

**“Should everyone vote for Shinguji Korekiyo now, or later?”** Monokuma asked. “It’s up to you guys to debate and find out! Go!”

“Shinguji killed Tenko and Angie!” Yumeno said furiously. “We should just vote for him now!”

“We have exact proof of one, but not the other,” Ouma said casually. “It’d be bad to vote now in case we were wrong about Angie-chan’s case.”

“Clearly he forced his way into Angie’s lab and killed her!” Iruma scowled. “Kiibo, the fuck are you even waiting for?!”

“If you recall correctly, Iruma-san,” Kiibo rebutted, “Angie-san’s killer didn’t force their way in! They came in through the normal door without any problems or tricks! We don’t know that it was Shinguji-kun!”

“Well, the katana was from Shinguji’s lab to begin with!” Momota furrowed his brows. “Shuichi, don’t tell me you’re on a killer’s side!”

“Just because it was from his lab doesn’t mean he was the one who used it. We can’t jump to conclusions!” Saihara insisted.

“B-But he killed Chabashira-san!” Gonta protested.

Ouma clicked his tongue. “Gonta, Monokuma told us that the blackened for this case would be Angie-chan’s killer and Angie-chan’s killer alone. We can’t vote for him until or unless we confirm that he killed Angie-chan-- no offense to Chabashira-chan.”

“Whatever!” Harukawa scoffed. “Kaito’s right that we should vote for him. He was planning on using that stupid new rule to protect himself all along.”

“Not true, Maki,” Saihara shook his head. “Monokuma only told us which killer we’d have to find after the trial started. Shinguji-kun couldn’t have known that beforehand, so we have no way of knowing if he killed Angie-san just based off that.”

“W-Well, we solved the mystery of Chabashira-san’s death, so why can’t we vote now?” Shirogane asked.

“Because,” Shinguji replied. “As these three have said_ over and over again,_ we must vote for Angie-san’s killer, not Chabashira-san’s killer. And if everyone wants to stay alive, we must find out who Angie-san’s killer is without a doubt!”

The debate scrum ended. 

“Your final decision?” Monokuma asked.

“We won’t vote for him yet,” Yumeno grumbled, clearly displeased.

“Even so, discussing Chabashira-san’s death wasn’t meaningless,” Saihara bit his lip. “It reminded me of a piece of evidence we haven’t yet discussed in Angie-san’s case…”

Shinguji’s eyes flickered. “Oh?”

Saihara nodded. “A clue found at the crime scene of Chabashira-san’s death. The dried blood found underneath the floorboard.”

Shinguji narrowed his gaze. “That has nothing to do with Angie-san’s case. Blood under the floorboards point clearly to Chabashira-san’s death.”

“No,” Harukawa spoke up. “It was _dry_ blood. Chabashira died in front of everyone, and the investigation period started almost immediately after her death. Her blood was wet-- both on the tarp and the parts that dripped through the floorboard. Yet there was one specific floorboard that had dried blood under it.”

Yumeno sucked in a harsh breath. “If the blood was dry, then…”

Iruma pursed her lips, solemn. “It had to have come from Angie’s death the night before.”

“But…” Gonta shook his head. “Why would she even go to those rooms? Gonta thought she was setting up the Necronomicon ritual!”

“And as the Ultimate Artist,” Momota coughed into his elbow, “she clearly had enough materials in her lab to make those creepy effigies…”

“The instructions called for effigies,” Shirogane piped up, “b-but they also called for-- um, burning… They called for burning the Necronomicon to ashes…”

“The candles,” Saihara finally said. He looked at Ouma. “Candles can bring light to a room, but the fire can also burn.”

“She was looking for a candle to finish her ritual,” Kiibo breathed. “But when she came into these rooms, she must’ve seen Shinguji-kun setting up or something--”

“No, she didn’t,” Shinguji interrupted at last. “Kiibo-kun, your memory appears to be lagging. I told you, did I not? I had hurt my hand due to slipping in my lab earlier in the day. Then towards evening I ate dinner before everyone else and retired to my dorm room. I have an alibi.”

Kiibo furrowed his brows. “You did say that, definitely, but… if nobody saw you, it’s not really an alibi.”

_Hurt his hand… by slipping?_ Saihara’s mind raced._ No._

“You said you slipped on the ladder while looking for documents high up in your lab’s shelves, right?” Ouma grinned. “Kiiboy mentioned it during the investigation. But it sure is strange…” his eyes darkened. “There was dust all over the place there!”

Yumeno startled. “R-Right… That’s right, even I climbed up there! But there was so much dust that I sneezed!” She narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t have touched those documents and books. If you did, the dust wouldn’t have been there anymore!”

“How rude,” Shinguji retaliated. “I slipped on the ladder and hurt my hand before I was able to touch any of the documents.”

“That can’t be the case,” Saihara jumped into the fray. “If you slipped, you’d be scrambling to hold onto something. It’s only natural that your hand would’ve brushed against one of the dusty shelves while you tried to save yourself from falling.” He paused. “Be honest-- you didn’t slip to begin with, did you?”

“Silly Saihara-chan…” Ouma twirled his hair. “Kiiboy suggested that Shinguji-chan probably just sneezed like Yumeno-chan, didn’t he? And that’s probably what caused him to slip!”

Shinguji looked rather pleased by the turn of events. “Why, yes, Ouma-kun. In fact, that’s exactly what happened. I sneezed from all the dust, and that caused me to lose my balance briefly.”

“Once again, you’re wrong, Shinguji-kun,” Saihara rebutted, feeling heated. He pointed at Shinguji, confident. _“Your mask would prevent you from breathing in the dust to begin with, wouldn’t it?”_

But to Saihara’s surprise, Shinguji didn’t even look fazed.

“I always take my mask off when I’m alone,” Shinguji countered. “I said as much to Kiibo-kun back before the first trial… I don’t like showing other people my mouth. If I’m alone, however, I can tolerate not wearing my mask.” He turned to Kiibo. “Am I incorrect?”

Kiibo grit his teeth. “Th… That’s definitely a conversation we had. I still have the recording in my files… but you could just as easily be lying about taking your mask off! You mentioned not liking showing other people your mouth, and you do work around everyone else’s dining times, but you never specified_ always_ taking your mask off when you’re alone!”

“You’re all trying to frame me because you know I killed Chabashira-san,” Shinguji fumed. “Going on about my mask being evidence that I didn’t slip and hurt my hand like that-- _you have no proof that my mask was on at the time.”_

Silence. 

“You’re right, Shinguji-kun,” Saihara said at last.

“Saihara-kun!” Kiibo protested, betrayed. Saihara held up a hand, gaze still set on Shinguji.

“You’re right that we have no way to prove whether your mask was on or off at that time,” Saihara acquiesced. He narrowed his eyes. “But we _can_ prove that the injury to your hand wasn’t caused by you slipping!”

“Oh?” Shinguji laughed. “Kehehe... You’re just going to spout more lies--”

“These bloody bandages are yours, aren’t they?” Saihara interrupted.

Shinguji froze.

“They _are,”_ Saihara pressed. “You’re the only one here who wears bandages on any part of their body. And you wear them on your hands and arms.”

“S-So?” Shinguji shivered, though he looked considerably paler than before. “Bloody bandages mean nothing.” He suddenly looked heated, irritated. “It means nothing!”

Saihara shook his head. “These have gold flakes on them, too. And the only way you could’ve gotten gold flakes on these bandages… is if you were holding the katana. This, plus the fact that you’re wearing extra bandages on your left hand for some reason--”

“Once again, you are wrong,” Shinguji said gravely, furrowing his brows. He pointed at Ouma. “Even Ouma-kun’s head is bandaged from his injury! Anyone could’ve stolen bandages from an infirmary, wrapped them around their arms, and then gotten gold flakes and blood on them.” His voice turned shrill. “It could’ve been an elaborate attempt to frame me for Angie-san’s murder!”

“No, it _was_ you!” Saihara yelled back. “The proof is in the chisel that was found with the bandages!”

_“Chisel?!”_ Shinguji shrieked, tittering madly. “Who cares about a stupid chisel?! What are you going to do, Saihara-kun? Add in another artist tool to the pile of so-called ‘evidence’ every time I deny your lies and claim it means anything?!” Shinguji’s breathing was heavy, his hair was wild and sweaty, and his face was flushed, shiny with sweat. 

“You weren’t injured by slipping,” Saihara said. “Slipping doesn’t warrant wrapping excess bandages all over your hand, the way you have right now… You put those on initially to soak up any extra blood, wasn’t it, Shinguji-kun?”

“What blood?” Shinguji seethed.

Saihara steeled himself. “The blood from when Angie-san stabbed you with this chisel.”

“Huh…?” Momota croaked. The others looked similarly stunned. It was then that Saihara realized that nobody else had been speaking at all-- the past few minutes had been a screaming match entirely between himself and Shinguji. 

_I can’t think about that right now,_ he thought, blood roaring in his ears and pounding his head. _Right now… all that matters is the truth. Reveal the truth. Break Shinguji-kun’s web of lies!_

“This chisel is what injured you, isn’t it, Shinguji-kun?” Saihara reiterated. “It’s incredibly sharp… much more than the other one that was left behind in Angie-san’s lab.” He glanced at Ouma; Ouma returned the glance for a brief second, expressionless, before looking at Shinguji.

“Angie-san had a double set of everything in the Ultimate Artist lab, including the chisels,” Saihara recalled, finger in front of his mouth. “When or why she sharpened this one is unknown, but if she kept it on her person and stabbed you with it before you managed to knock her out and then kill her, it explains your hand injury, as well as the reason why those discarded bandages are bloody to begin with.”

Shinguji shook his head slowly. “No… No! Angie-san wasn’t ever knocked out. She was killed instantly, was she not? The injury to the back of her neck proves it--”

“The dried blood on the floorboards we found matches the injury on the back of Angie’s head,” Harukawa said. “And the Monopads confirmed that the cause of death was stabbing, not getting hit in the head. She was still alive after being hit with the floorboard-- she was just unconscious. She didn’t die instantly.” 

“Show us your hand injury, Shinguji-kun,” Saihara’s gaze bore into Shinguji’s very being. “Show us and prove to us whether or not Angie-san stabbed you with this chisel while she was attacked.”_ I don’t want it to be true. Prove that that’s not the case if you can. I’m only doubting you because I trust you to begin with--!_

“Yeah,” Ouma spoke up. “Show us.” 

“Show us,” Harukawa narrowed her eyes.

“Show us,” Momota grit his teeth.

“Show us,” Iruma spat.

“Show us,” Gonta and Shirogane repeated.

“Show us, Shinguji-kun,” Kiibo insisted.

Shinguji’s eyes were wide, incredulous. “You can’t force me to--”

“Show us,” Yumeno trembled furiously, voice low and angry. “Unravel those bandages and _show us, Shinguji.”_

Shinguji choked on air, overwhelmed. With no other choice, he slowly unwrapped the bandages on his left hand, each layer caked in slightly more bits of dry blood than the last, and held it up.

The stab wound was there, along with some dried blood around it. _A vertical wound._ Saihara’s heart leapt to his throat, then sank miserably back down. _The same exact shape and size. That proves it, without a doubt..._

“All this proves,” Shinguji spoke hoarsely, beginning to wrap up his hand again, “is that I was stabbed. You have no proof that I was Angie-san’s killer, nor that I killed her with the katana.”

“That’s because the katana _wasn’t_ the weapon that killed Angie-san,” Saihara said gravely. He took in a shaky breath. “This chisel was.”

_“What?”_ Yumeno turned sharply to him, knitting her brows. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been saying stuff about the katana this whole time, but… the truth is, that’s just a diversion from the chisel, isn’t it, Shinguji-kun?” Saihara furrowed his brows. “The katana was used to close the lock. We discussed that earlier. But you gave it a double meaning.

“After killing Angie-san, you put some blood on the katana’s tip before stabbing it into the effigy of Akamatsu-san. You knew that as Akamatsu-san’s closest friend, I’d be hesitant to take the katana out of her effigy during the investigation,” Saihara gave a slight nod to Harukawa. “But in case someone else took it out, you put blood there as a red herring.”

“The katana _was_ the weapon,” Shinguji repeated slowly. “No matter how many times we go over that--”

“It wasn’t,” Harukawa spoke up, eyes dark. “The shape of Angie’s wound was vertical, but the depth of the blood on the katana didn’t match the depth of the wound on Angie’s neck.” She narrowed her gaze. “The chisel, on the other hand… The depth of blood there matched.”

Shinguji froze again, quivering.

“That’s right,” Saihara spoke, conviction strong in his voice. “And you just showed us your own wound, which was the exact same shape and size.” He pointed at Shinguji accusingly, completely sure of himself. “You knocked Angie-san out with the floorboard. Then, you duct-taped her head injury so that blood wouldn’t spill on the floor as you carried her back to her own lab. The hairs on the duct tape prove you put it on her head.

“And after doing that,” Saihara grit his teeth, “you _used the very chisel she stabbed you with_ to kill her for good.”

“That’s baseless--”

“You set up the wax effigies on the ceiling using rope, then got the katana from your lab and put some blood on the tip before putting it in Akamatsu-san’s effigy, failing to realize that the depth didn’t match,” Saihara continued, on a roll. “You took the chisel with you as you twisted the effigy and then let it lock the sliding lock behind you…”

“No,” Shinguji whispered. He giggled, a wobbly smile on his face. “No, that’s…” 

“After that,” Saihara swallowed, mouth dry from having talked so much at once. “You wrapped the chisel in your bloody bandages and hid the bundle under the floorboards of one of the spare rooms, where Maki, Yumeno-san, and Kiibo-kun later found them during the investigation.”

“That we did…” Kiibo confirmed, looking rather empty. Yumeno and Harukawa nodded.

“So that’s it, huh,” Iruma grit her teeth.

“Yeah, it makes sense now,” Momota narrowed his eyes, looking seriously pissed. “You knew that by morning, both your blood and her blood woulda dried on the chisel, so even if we found it earlier on, we wouldn’t’a known the difference just by lookin’!”

Shinguji took a shaky step back. “That’s…” 

“The culprit of_ both_ Yonaga Angie-san’s murder and Chabashira Tenko-san’s murder is_ you,_ Shinguji-kun,” Saihara concluded sadly. “Give it up.”

“That’s…” Shinguji faltered, then grinned, crinkles around his eyes in genuine mirth. “Haha… Ahahaha! Congratulations, Saihara-kun!” Shinguji laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. He sighed. “You truly are my smartest friend.”

Saihara bit his lip, holding his head as a headache hit him once again.

_‘It hurts more when it comes from a friend.’_

“No more questions asked, then?” Monokuma smiled cruelly. Silence. “Well, then, you know what to dooooo!”

The voting machines rose for a third time, its mocking screens gracing the trial room once again.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')
> 
> There wasn't really a ""need"" for me to add in the chisel and bandages, but after I put them in for other reasons, I kinda figured... why not include them in the trial? It was the same with the whole thing about dust and Shinguji's mask. I did it mostly for fun.


	25. 3-7. Cultural Melting Pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirogane lied to him.
> 
> Shinguji warns all of them.
> 
> Iruma plans for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update! If you haven't read the trial (3-6, or chapter 24) before this, GO BACK and read that first!
> 
> TW for graphic violence, character death, and a lot of angst. I know I said I meant it with Angie's death, but I really, _really_ mean it for Shinguji's. **This is among the cruelest deaths I will write.** Not simply because of the execution itself, but because of what happens to Shinguji before that-- though only the execution is explicit/graphic. If you want to skip the execution, go from "Cultural Melting Pot" to "Saihara couldn't even" in the same POV section.
> 
> Additional TW for mentions of incest, which ;;; kinda can't be avoided. Sorry!
> 
> Overall, I hope this chapter makes sense? It's 3:30 am, oof

_His friend. I’m his friend, and he’s my friend,_ Saihara thought, clicking on Shinguji’s face.

_And yet, here we are again._

“The results are in… Another unanimous vote!” Monokuma crowed. “Congratulations, you all got it right! The person who killed both Yonaga Angie and Chabashira Tenko was indeed Shinguji Korekiyo!” 

“Why?” Yumeno asked, voice cracking, eyes wide and spilling with tears in her fury. “What reason did you even have for murdering them?!” 

Shinguji paused. Then, he did the unthinkable.

He slowly unzipped his mask and took it off completely.

“Li--” Momota was the first one to speak, stunned. “Lipstick?”

“It’s all for the sake of my sister,” Shinguji grinned creepily. “My sister, whom I love dearly… My dead sister.”

“Your _what,”_ Iruma’s jaw dropped in disgust.

“My elder sister was sickly, so she was always in the hospital,” Shinguji shivered. “But she always wanted friends… All she ever had was me. I loved her, and she loved me back, as more than what our relationship allowed… She wanted a hundred friends. All girls... So I decided to send them to her in the afterlife.”

“Incest…?” Shirogane’s eyes widened, somewhat grossed out yet enchanted and mystified at the same time.

“The afterlife--” Harukawa blanched, the first to realize exactly what he meant. She growled. “Motherfucker… You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?! And you target only girls…”

“Kehehe…!” Shinguji licked his lips. “Precisely.”

Saihara froze. 

“And I’m so close to my goal…” Shinguji grinned, though there was none of the awkward, endearing enthusiasm Saihara had seen earlier, when the former’s lab had first opened. “Angie-san and Chabashira-san were both worthy candidates for Sister, so even though I only meant to kill one, it was still a win!”

[“SHUT UP,” Yumeno snapped, hugging her shoulders as tears spilled from her eyes. “That’s sick! You’re freaking _SICK!_ Killing only girls all for some dead lady who doesn’t even matter-- you killed Angie and Tenko and they _died _for no reason--!”](https://ministarfruit.tumblr.com/post/188166294135/au-where-himiko-has-just-had-enough-and-snaps)

“It’s disgusting,” Momota wrinkled his nose. “And on top of that, you’re wearing makeup all of a sudden?”

“I always wear this underneath the mask,” Shinguji replied casually. “In remembrance of Sister… Of her ghost, gently guiding me.”

“That’s weird, though,” Kiibo protested. “Shinguji-kun, do you remember what you told me while we were investigating before the first trial? You showed me your mouth behind the mask after I had finished asking for your alibi, and there wasn’t even a hint of lipstick on back then.”

Shinguji stayed silent.

“So, what?” Saihara asked at last, heart hollow. “Did you have your memories the whole time?” He looked up at Shinguji. 

“...Shuichi?” Harukawa blinked in confusion. 

The others looked perplexed as well, but Saihara’s attention was only on Shinguji. “Well?” he asked. “Why else would you do this here and now, if not because of my motive video?”

“I don’t see what you’re talking about, Saihara-kun,” Shinguji tilted his head. 

“Don’t _lie_ to me!” Saihara furrowed his brows, angry, and it was only then that he realized how this might have been sounding to all the others listening in with no context. He shook his head, betrayed. “Don’t-- Shut up, this has _everything _to do with--”

“Saihara-kun,” Shinguji said patiently, “Please believe me when I say that my knowing the contents of your motive video and my being a serial killer who kills only women was a coincidence. They have nothing to do with each other. I just happened to _remember_ all of this and about Sister because of--”

“Then why,” Saihara choked, “why didn’t you--” He gestured manically, piercing Shinguji with his gaze while he struggled to find the words. _Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you comfort me about my identity when you use gender as a basis for murder? Would you have murdered me instead if I were actually a girl and not a transgender man?_

_Why did it have to be you?_

“Okay, calm down,” Momota verbally stepped in between the two of them. “I don’t know what’s going on between both of you, but now isn’t the time.”

“Now’s the _only_ time, actually,” Ouma sniffed. “Execution, remember?” It was a bitter, ironic pill to swallow, but Ouma was right. 

_‘It hurts more when it comes from a friend.’_

This hurt all over again. Just like with Akamatsu, just like with Toujo, it hurt. And as always, Saihara sucked it up.

“Okay then,” Saihara breathed. “Okay. You’re an incestuous serial killer. You’ve been hiding amongst us knowing this from the beginning--”

“Ah, no, actually,” Shinguji shifted uncomfortably. “I only remembered it after I saw the flashback light.”

“Wait a minute,” Kiibo stumbled on his words. “What flashback light?” 

Shinguji froze.

“You know,” he laughed awkwardly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The flashback light? The one I found in my lab the day after Angie-san introduced the student council to everyone else… I was still busy exploring all the scrolls and texts in my lab, so I asked that it be delivered to you guys to look at after I did. Didn’t you all see it?”

Alarm rang through Saihara’s head. “No?” He wracked his brain but couldn’t for the life of him remember any such situation. “Shinguji-kun, what are you talking about? Aside from the one that we all saw together and the one Angie-san smashed to pieces, we didn’t get any others.” The others nodded alongside him, confirming it.

“That one flashback light just happened to remind you that you were an incestuous serial killer murdering people for your dead sister’s sake?” Harukawa’s eyes narrowed. “And none of the rest of us got to see any other personal memories of ours from it? That’s weird. Where is that flashback light now?”

“Besides,” Ouma said carefully. “Didn’t Monokuma say that if one person uses a flashback light, it can’t be used by any other people afterwards? Why was this one any different?”

“I-I don’t know,” Shinguji stammered. “They took it away… they promised they’d get it to the rest of you guys… and said you’d be able to use it... I don’t…” 

“Oi, Shinguji,” Momota demanded. “Who is ‘they’? Who did you tell to--?”

But Shinguji_ wasn’t _paying attention, Saihara realized. It was as though he was in a trance.

Realization dawned upon his face. “I was set up,” Shinguji’s voice trembled, eyes widening in terror. “I was set up--!” He whirled around towards Monokuma and the Monokubs. _“YOU SET ME UP!” _he screamed. “I FUCKING KNEW IT, I KNEW IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG, FROM THE START, I ALWAYS THOUGHT-- _**I KNEW I WAS RIGHT! APOLOGIZE!”**_

“W-Who set you up?” Gonta asked, confused. “What’s going on?! Shinguji-kun--”

“APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE! _APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE TO ME AND EVERYONE ELSE HERE FOR PUTTING US ALL THROUGH THIS! _YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME BECAUSE YOU KNEW I’D TRY TO GET OUT OF THIS CRAZY PLACE--”

“Shinguji-kun,” Kiibo winced, looking genuinely frightened. “Who are you talking to?”

_“[$*^`08@#3]!_” Shinguji yelled, still looking manically in the direction of the Monokubs and Monokuma. _“IT WAS [$*^`08@#3 7$%~%8^]!” _He raised his arm to point at someone, and then his whole body seemed to morph into a thick blur, as if being censored by TV static.

“Huh?” Yumeno looked confused. “Go on, say it! If they’re the mastermind, then--”

“I SAID, IT’S _[$*^`08@#3]!”_

“Shinguji-kun, you sound garbled up--” Saihara furrowed his brows, both confused and scared.

“JUST TELL US WHO IT IS,” Iruma yelled. “WHAT’S THEIR NAME?”

“I_ AM_ SAYING IT,” Shinguji looked anguished. “I’VE SAID IT SO MANY TIMES, I EVEN POINTED-- WHAT THE HELL?! WHY CAN’T YOU GUYS HEAR ME?! _[$*^`08@#3] IS THE MA--”_

“C-CALM DOWN!” Shirogane shivered-- understandable, since she was right in front of the bears, so it kind of looked like Shinguji was addressing her instead.

“Th-That’s hardly an excuse, Shinguji-kun,” she said more coolly, standing strong despite her obvious fear and discomfort. “M-Monokuma has been setting all of us up. I mean… E-Even if you were taken advantage of, like-- um, like Hoshi-kun and Toujo-san… you were still the one who gained those memories, you know? And… And you were the one who decided it meant you had to murder people in the end, right? Y-You must’ve been hiding your desire to escape if you waited until you had an excuse from a flashback light. You even made the c-conscious choice... to_ murder_\--” she shuddered. “--two different people. That’s… That’s on _you._ Not on Monokuma, or the M-Monokubs, or-- or anyone else in this trial room.” 

(It struck Saihara as odd, the way Shirogane managed to be calm and stand her ground in the moments when she ought to be most terrified.)

Shinguji trembled in place, a quiet, angry, horrified aura emanating from him. “I don’t know _what_ you’re--”

“W-Who are you talking to, anyway…?” Shirogane let out a quavering noise. She squeaked. “P-Please stop looking at me like that…”

Shinguji burst. “Shut the _fuck up--”_

“Gonta thinks… Shirogane-san is right,” Gonta bit his lip. “It’s not her fault!”

“I don’t think he was blaming Shirogane in particular, Gonta,” Yumeno grimaced. “He was talking to_ those guys.”_ She motioned her head towards the six bears, all grinning in varying levels of glee.

Saihara was inclined to agree. Those robotic bears had set up Toujo and Hoshi in a similar way with the motive videos. It made sense that the same would happen to Shinguji.

“Fuckin’ enough,” Iruma slammed a fist on her podium. “Enough about being _‘set up’_, fucker. You’re an incestuous serial killer. You murder other girls for your dead sister, who you’re _fucking like a whore, _which is beyond disgusting even for a dirty kinkster genius like_\--”_

“Iruma-san,” Kiibo sighed exasperatedly; Iruma ignored him.

“--so my fucking question is, _how, bitch?”_ Iruma scowled. “Knives, ropes, bombs, what? How’d you kill that many victims around the world as an anthropologist and get away with all of it until now? And what, did your slutty sister ever say she _wanted_ friends from beyond the grave to begin with? I don’t even get where your stupid-ass story started.”

Shinguji stood rooted to the ground, unable to give a response.

Harukawa looked more intrigued by this turn in conversation. “The sex-crazed moron has a point,” she acquiesced. “Not to put myself or my job in the spotlight here, but as an assassin myself… I think it’s weird if you can’t even remember what weapons you used, or how you killed. Did you lure people? Seduce people? Snipe them? Or just sneak up and _bam_, kill them?” 

She glared daggers at Shinguji, then softened her gaze upon seeing just how _out of it_ he looked. “...Shinguji, do you even remember your kill count?”

“I don’t… know... ?” Shinguji scrunched his eyes shut, frustrated. He looked almost as if he was about to cry from the stress. “_‘Close to my goal’_ is all my brain can remember… and… I don’t have any weapons or methods in mind at all...”

Saihara jumped into the conversation, perplexed. “Come to think of it… you didn’t even know whether or not Chabashira-san died instantly, even though a serial killer would know which killing methods caused instant deaths or drawn-out ones.” He put a hand over his mouth, confused. 

“S-So you don’t remember anything except the fact that you’re a serial killer?” Kiibo pressed. “What about details about your older sister? You said she was sickly, but what else do you remember about her, and about your situation? Why did you decide to become a serial--”

Evidently, that was the breaking point.

I DON'T KNOW! _I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!_ I DON'T REMEMBER MY SISTER AT ALL,” Shinguji shrieked, looking like he was about to tear his hair apart. “OR HOW I KILLED PEOPLE OR THE REASON WHY I KILLED PEOPLE OR EVEN WHEN I STARTED PUTTING ON THIS LIPSTICK--” he jabbed a manic finger at his mouth. “IT’S LIKE SOMEONE JUST PUT ALL THESE THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES IN MY HEAD OUT OF NOWHERE, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHY OR HOW OR WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON AND _MY HEAD IS KILLING ME--"_

Suddenly, he froze, quivering and breathing heavily as he stared into the distance.

"Hey,” Iruma growled impatiently. “The fuck d’you go silent for all of a sudden?”

"Faking a headache or some other memory won't let you get away with murdering Angie and Tenko and however many other girls you killed," Yumeno grit her teeth. “Whether you’re a serial killer or not.”

Then, out of nowhere, his eyes widened, sharpening in horror. "Wait a minute." Shinguji looked at the others in panic. "Wait a minute. The flashback light was fake-- everything was all just--” he struggled for words.“_[$*^`08@#3] lied--_ I didn't-- I don't even _have a--"_

"STOP RIGHT THERE, MISTER!” Monokuma crowed. “YOU’RE TOOOOOO LATE!”

“NO!” Shinguji yelled. “Promise me,” he turned to everyone and spoke rapid-fire, frantic words. “All of you, each and every one of you, promise me-- promise you won’t look at the flashback lights. PLEASE! Promise you won’t look! Don’t touch them, don’t open them, _all of them are--”_

“IIIIIT'S PUNISHMENT TIME!" Monokuma cackled with glee, pressing a bright blue button. “Monosuke, Monokid, Monodam-- you three kubs, help me out a bit!”

The terrified, fearful look on Shinguji's face was by far the most unsettling thing Saihara had ever seen from him-- more so than any other expression the other boy had ever shown them before. "WAIT, LET ME-- _NO--!"_

Before anyone could say or do anything, the ground beneath Shinguji opened up, letting him fall.

His screams echoed the whole way down.

In front of everyone else, the screens flashed a new title screen:

**Cultural Melting Pot**

Ultimate Anthropologist Shinguji Korekiyo’s Execution: Executed

The screen showed a traditional Japanese room, with tatami mats and sliding doors. Shinguji was tied up in shibari bindings with rope-- his hat and mask were off, and the rope connected to an open beam on the ceiling. 

_A direct tie-in to the murder,_ Saihara thought, heart thumping wildly in his chest. _This already looks bad…_

Monosuke and Monokid spun Shinguji around, dizzying him just as he had once spun the effigy of Akamatsu, and Monodam at last cut the rope. The tatami mats opened up, and the Japanese room faded to an underground area.

The_ ‘splash’_ was the last thing Saihara expected to hear.

Shinguji choked a bit, coughing out water. He tried and failed to move his matted, wet hair from his face; the rope was tied too tightly around his arms.

In a sharp personality twist, Monodam stabbed Monosuke and Monokid, effectively killing them both. 

_A metaphor, _Saihara realized. _The yellow bear represents Angie-san. The blue bear represents Chabashira-san. And the green bear…_

Monodam lit the fire under the pot. 

Saihara’s breathing sped up; the people around him were whimpering, or stunned into silence, unable to intervene.

Shinguji writhed and thrashed as the temperature rose. He screamed, cried, desperately tossed and turned around in the boiling water, trying to get out-- it was futile, the effort was _useless, _the pot was too big for him to escape. The steam was too much to bear. His thick, dark clothes were making his body heat even worse.

Monodam added salt to the pot of boiling water and grinned, fanning the flames. Then, in a fit of madness, he leaped into the fire, effectively killing himself.

_Salt. The same as… what he used for the summoning circle..._

Shinguji began sweating even more, crying even more; his makeup began melting off of his face. Even now that the ropes had been burned off, the pot itself was too hot for Shinguji to attempt climbing with his bare hands-- he was trapped.

Shinguji’s skin burned, his eyes burned, his tears evaporated off just as quickly as he cried, everything inside and out was hot and felt like it was melting, bleeding, burning, boiling, sickly, hot, hot, HOT--

\--and then, with a final, desolate whimper, Shinguji’s bleeding eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he sank down under, completely limp.

Completely, thoroughly cooked.

Saihara couldn’t even scream. All he could do was gulp, and allow the horrified tears clinging to his eyes to fall. 

“Those three Monokubs died, too?” Shirogane’s lip wobbled. “Wh-What… why?”

“Who cares about them,” Saihara said monotonously, hollowly. He took in a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with his palms. “Who fucking-- Sh-- Shinguji-kun just…”

He couldn’t even say it.

Every execution was worse than the last. The suffering, the pain, the headaches. The memories that ought to have been flooding into his mind wouldn’t even come.

It hurt that much.

“I hated him…” Yumeno trembled. “I hated that he killed Angie and Tenko, I hated him for doing it, and I wanted him to pay back for it, but--” she choked on her words. “Even _I_ didn’t want something as cruel as this…!”

(And judging by their silence, none of the others did either.)

“You’re allowed to cry, Yumeno,” Ouma said quietly. He sighed, then smiled, casually putting his arms behind his head. “You tend to get mad and hyped up, but… it’s okay to let your emotions out in more vulnerable ways. It’s the same with everyone else… if you don’t, you’re just lying to yourself.”

“Ouma-kun, that’s mean,” Gonta chided, crying. 

“And pretentious…” Kiibo stammered, looking equally as numb as the others. “H-How can you be so calm after seeing that…?”

“No, Gonta,” Yumeno shook her head, eyes watering. “Ouma… is right. Angie was nice enough to lie to me. Tenko wanted me to see the truth. Even Shinguji… ended up realizing that he wasn’t really himself until right before he died.” She took in a shaky breath. “There’s no point in me trying to act like a witch just because I’m scared of lies… when we’re all in a situation like this.” She sniffled. “If we’re all this close to death anyway… I want to be honest to myself and to my talent. To who I _am.”_

Yumeno breathed in.

And then she screamed. Loud, sobbing screams, full of heartache and pain. Crying for Angie, for Tenko, for all their friends who had died, cursing the killing game and whoever had put them all into the academy.

Saihara honestly couldn’t remember any details beyond that, because at some point, he’d joined in with the crying. Him, and at least half of the others.

_Releasing your emotions… is good. There’s been too much stressing us out. Seeing people suffer and die… It’s stressful. We bottle it up because we’re scared, and it drags down our will to live._

_But if we bond with one another… maybe, even if only temporarily, we can divert that pain._

=

“She ain’t heavy, is she?” Iruma murmured, maintaining step with Gonta, who was carrying a now sleeping Yumeno on his back. Iruma rubbed at her own eyes, somewhat red-rimmed.

Gonta shook his head and smiled, letting out a quiet sniffle. “No… she’s light. Gonta can handle it just fine.” 

Saihara, who was walking in front with them, yawned, clearly tired from his own crying. “She must be exhausted… today was emotional.”

Today. All of this had happened _today._ And now it was nighttime already. Another full day had gone by, with two murder discoveries, investigations, a trial, and an execution.

It made Iruma sick.

“Huh,” Ouma muttered, unraveling the bandages on his head and gingerly touching the previously wounded area. “The concussion’s… gone.”

Momota blinked in surprise, furrowing his brows. “That can’t be. Concussions don’t heal in several hours.”

_Maybe the concussion lost its plot relevance, _Iruma mused. The thought made her want to laugh._ Pfft. If this were a kids’ show, they’d just ignore it and magically act like it never happened the next day…_

Shirogane sneezed; Kiibo hurriedly offered her a tissue.

“Of course I know that, dumbass,” Ouma grinned. “But Momota-chan, you’re a dumbass, so of course it’d take _you_ a while to get it, you stupid dumbass!”

“S-Shut up, I’m not a dumbass!” Momota coughed.

“Is that the only insult you know?” Harukawa rolled her eyes.

“I don’t wanna hear that from you, Miss _‘Do You Want To Die’,”_ Ouma sneered. All three of them winced, holding their heads.

_But…_ Iruma steeled herself._ I can’t let myself stay carefree like all of these idiots… Getting sad when someone gets brutally killed like that… When a teenager like us gets murdered so ruthlessly like that. It’s cruel. It’s unhuman. We’re too young to die. I already lost too much of my childhood to death, and now I’m stuck here with my teenage years being dangled right in front of me…_

_...it makes me sick, how easily they all take advantage of something so precious. How they grieve for a minute or two, then going right back to acting like nothing’s wrong, like puppets._

_I want to live. I have to live. I have to get out of here, away from these nutjobs, and actually succeed, unlike the other three._

(Her mind was made up.)

“I’m gonna go to my lab,” Iruma finally said, detouring from the others. “I… Fidgeting with my tools’ll prolly gonna help me clear my head better.”

Kiibo waved goodnight to her with a smile. “Get rest, Iruma-san! Feel better soon!”

Iruma waved back, then moved to her lab, eventually closing the door behind her. She sighed. _Kiibo really does remind me of **him**… but that doesn’t matter anymore._

She took off her jacket layer, tying her hair up and putting on her goggles. _If the pattern continues, new sections of the school will open up either tomorrow or later on in the week. That should include the computer lab that was closed off this time around._

Iruma cracked her knuckles and took out a notepad and pencil.

_...Time for the world’s greatest girl genius to work on a little program of her own._

=

The lingering scent of ash and salt burned in their nostrils long after Shinguji was gone, and long after they all left the trial room.

Even a few hours later in her bookshelf room, as Shirogane slumped in her chair, heart thumping in her chest, she couldn’t avoid the stench. 

_That was even closer than the first trial… Shit. _ _I was lucky that the showrunners censored my name and mosaic-ed his body, with his finger pointing at me… They were right to have me be placed right in front of Monokuma in the trials._

_Also, three of the five Monokubs are now swept to the side. I tried keeping them longer to see if they’d make an impact, but people just don’t notice them or care, so there’s no point in keeping them. All that’s left of them are Monotaro and Monophanie._

She sat up slowly, crossing off more names on her list. _Yonaga was another person who nearly brought up the mastermind’s room in the first trial… She was surprisingly sharp. Too sharp, since she was the first and only one to realize before the trial the flashback lights are bullshit… But Chabashira was an extra sacrifice. She should have survived a bit longer, but it’s okay either way if she’s dead. It gives Yumeno double the angst, which should serve to develop her character further…_

_Yonaga was supposed to die during the Caged Child ritual the next day, but nooo, she had to have that candle at two in the morning… The only reason I had to pull Chabashira into the fray was because Shinguji’s impromptu murder of Angie was too fucking perfect. So perfect that there was no way even my precious detective could solve it, unless there was another connected case. _

The thought of Shinguji Korekiyo brought both a massive headache and a great bout of ire to Shirogane’s mind. She forcibly ignored the movie-like flashbacks, instead musing on her utter hatred of the boy and her satisfaction that he too, was led to believe that life was meaningless for most. 

As it should be.

More annoying than Amami, and nearly more of a pain in the neck than Ouma in terms of people who screwed up her plans… From the very beginning, Shinguji was the one who threw Shirogane into the spotlight. The one who mentioned she’d gone to the bathroom, nearly exposing the mastermind from chapter one… and now again, nearly exposing her in chapter three. He was too smart and capable for his own good. It was only natural that she nerfed his skills a little with the fake incestuous serial killer memories to get him caught.

Even with that, though, he’d managed to create a perfect murder that Shirogane had to interfere with.

And even with _that, _she couldn’t fully alter his personality enough before he realized who had damned him to his death and actually warned the others about the flashback lights all being fake.

Shirogane shuddered._ I’m glad he’s gone! Production value would’ve tanked if he’d succeeded any more than he already has. The others aren’t stupid either… They’ll know to avoid flashback lights now. I’ll need to come up with something new..._

She took one last look at her journal.

THREATS TO ELIMINATE: <strike>Amami Rantaro</strike>, <strike>Akamatsu Kaede</strike>, <strike>Hoshi Ryouma</strike>, <strike>Toujo Kirumi</strike>, <strike>Yonaga Angie</strike>, <strike>Shinguji Korekiyo</strike>, Iruma Miu, Ouma Kokichi, Momota Kaito

OK TO SURVIVE OR DIE: Yumeno Himiko, <strike>Chabashira Tenko</strike>, Harukawa Maki, Gokuhara Gonta, Shirogane Tsumugi

MUST SURVIVE TIL END: Saihara Shuichi, Kiibo

_Nine people left, _she thought giddily, closing the journal and moving on to the video feeds.

_This show is getting more exciting now than ever before._

_=_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw the person u hate (shirogane) makes a terrible but true point re killing people even if ur manipulated by flashback lights [pensive emoji]
> 
> Shinguji deserves better than even the crumbs I've given him, but alas, I have bigger plans for this story. At the very least, I didn't have him die believing he actually was an incestuous serial killer like in canon... Even if this version may actually be somewhat worse, angst-wise.
> 
> In other news, I was wondering if that twist on the whole "apologize" segment was interesting or unique? Ahaha, I sorta wanted to turn the tables by having him actually demand an apology from the mastermind instead of the person trying to save everyone. Plus angst when nobody else is able to realize that he's talking about Shirogane...
> 
> The link in the middle of the chapter is to art by the great @/ministarfruit on tumblr! While editing I realized the scene I wrote for Yumeno there rather resembled this particular fanart, so I wanted to at least link it. It was purely subconscious on my part, but I hope it's alright with Mini that I linked, ahaha ;;;
> 
> The next chapter will be out on Thursday and it will be the last chapter in section 3. Thank you all for your patience!
> 
> LINKS TO FANART!!!!!!!!! BC THIS FIC HAS THEM AND YALL SHOULD CHECK THEM OUT :'D
> 
> [1\. Section 3 fanart by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/189659362317/a-lil-fanart-for-section-3-of-khattikeris)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading!


	26. 3-8. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Momota bleeds with worry while Saihara reflects on himself, his friends, and the game.
> 
> Iruma and Ouma each have an affair with paranoia, but only one of them retains their sanity.
> 
> Shirogane's mental baggage is heavier than she thinks it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rather fond of this chapter for some reason? I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the drama. Maybe it's Everyone Progressively Fucking Themselves Over by not communicating properly. Maybe it's the foreshadowing. shrug emoji!
> 
> With this chapter, we are now somewhere around the story's halfway point! Buckle up, because it'll only get more intense from here.

As the others went to their dorm rooms-- except Iruma, who was locked up in her lab-- Momota went back out to the courtyard.

Fresh air was good for illnesses, right? Momota knew that. Every medical textbook in the world said that water, good food, and clean, fresh air was good for you.

_But I guess even bloody lung diseases like these can’t be cured just by goin’ outside,_ he thought, dismayed.

It was so _weird._ Ouma’s ridiculous concussion had cured itself in mere hours, and here he was, suffering and struggling through some chronic illness he’d never even had before that point. None of the books in the library mentioned anything about the illness. He himself hadn’t heard of it before, even with all his experience with science and astronaut training.

_Is it even a chronic disease?_ Momota wondered, suddenly nauseous with memory._ If it was, they wouldn’ta let me join the space program to begin with..._

At last alone and free, Momota coughed. He coughed and hacked, and blood spilled over his mouth and into his hands, bits of it staining his shirt.

He looked up, noticing his reflection in the glass windows of the academy: a tall, dark figure, hunched over. The moonlight illuminated his face and eyes, sharing it equally with the shadows. His teeth and lips were bloody, his hair and forehead were sweaty, and droplets of red pooled in his palm, dripping through the spaces between his fingers.

Like a wolf. A werewolf.

A person who undergoes a sudden shift in health and being…

_ The only person responsible for that change is you. You know that, right? _

He turned his head away from the mirror, spooked. _A ghost telling me how sorry I look… Scary and shameful. The Luminary of the Stars can’t be seen like this. I can’t-- a hero can’t be seen in such a weak, pathetic state._

_Akamatsu never showed us her scared side. She was always brave. She took everything head-on and led us with courage and strength and a smile, even if it hurt--!_

“I can’t let this… get to me,” Momota wheezed quietly, his chest seizing in pain. He could hardly breathe. He clenched his fist, and the blood squeezed, oozing out of his hand and falling down to the grass below. “I can’t…” he heaved, coughing again. “I haven’t even… been to space yet… I haven’t even... escaped yet…!”

=

She was looking at the live feed, but every now and then, Shirogane’s eyes would wander to the extra film reel. All the recorded content that was intentionally cut from broadcast, to avoid people realizing who the mastermind was...

_‘This one can be used individually! It-- um, it can give us all memories that we don’t all share as a whole,’ Shirogane lied._

_Shinguji raised a brow. ‘Strange… Monokuma never said anything about it. Nor did the Monokubs in an announcement. And with Angie-san’s spectacle the other day, I would think that nobody else would want to look at the flashback lights either...’_

Shirogane remembered it well. She’d been mentally cursing the other boy for being smart even when at a time when he was supposed to be gullible.

_‘It-- well, um, the thing is--’ Shirogane wrung her hands. ‘W-We were thinking that was intentional… a-and nobody really agrees with Angie-san on that, even us council members.’_

_Shinguji sighed, continuing to flip through the pages of a book. ‘I shall look at it with the others later on.’_

_‘N-No, um-- since I came all this way, I was thinking you could look at it, and then I could take it to some of the others who’ve been harder to find.’ Shirogane bit her lip. ‘A-And to begin with, it’s our own private memories we see from it, right? Everyone wants to be the one to see their own memories without others intruding...’_

_Shinguji looked dubious. ‘You’ll deliver it to the others when I’m done?’_

_Shirogane nodded. ‘I’ll stand outside so you can look. W-We all think it’d be best if we got more of our memories back… and...’ her glasses gleamed. ‘You do want to escape, right, Shinguji-kun?’_

_Shinguji paused for a split second, then turned around. ‘Naturally, I do, but…’_

_‘Then you should look,’ Shirogane sighed. ‘I-- I’m sorry if I sound pressing or rude, it’s just-- you’re among the last few people who haven’t seen it, and I wouldn’t want anyone to not remember their pasts… That’d be just plain sad.’_

_Shinguji stared at her, then hesitantly took the flashback light into his hands. ‘Alright, then…’_

_Shirogane smiled. ‘I’ll go out, then.’ She walked out. She saw the wall in front of her look brighter for a few moments, and then it faded back to normal. _

_She turned around and walked back in, returning to her shrinking violet persona. ‘W-Well?’_

_Shinguji’s eyes looked different. ‘I... remember…’ his face shifted under the mask, unable to be fully seen, yet Shirogane knew that it had to be a grin. ‘Kehehe…’_

_‘I-In that case, I’ll get it to the others,’ Shirogane gave him a wobbly (fake) smile, taking the flashback light out of his hands. ‘See you soon!’_

Shirogane turned that monitor off, then went back to looking at the live feed again. Momota was hacking out blood into his hand in the middle of the courtyard, looking at his own reflection.

_Save that part,_ she thought._ He’s totally panicking._

_ The only person responsible for that change is you. You know that, right? _

Shirogane shivered, mint and perfume dulling her thought process. Of course. She was the one responsible for those changes in the end. Both Shinguji’s and Momota’s. She knew that, deep down.

It felt… good to be responsible for something so detestable.

<strike>No it doesn’t--</strike>

It felt good to have a little fun when everything was meaningless.

<strike>All you’re doing is hurting people--</strike>

Nothing mattered. 

<strike>Wake up--</strike>

Nothing mattered at all! And even if it did, she’d force those painful memories to the side.

<strike>You have to remember--</strike>

There were no consequences. None of this was real, anyway. 

Momota made his verbal declaration, refusing to give up because he hadn’t yet achieved his dream of going to space. Heartwarming and simultaneously sad, because it was an obvious death flag, but the viewers would eat it up.

Shirogane recollected herself and switched screens again, this time looking at Saihara in his dorm room. 

_It’s only Danganronpa..._

=

Saihara flopped onto his bed, utterly exhausted. The others had all gone to their dorm rooms, except for Iruma, who’d gone to her lab as a distraction from the horrors they’d seen that day.

Saihara tried going to sleep. He really did. But it was impossible to just sleep as if he hadn’t watched yet another of his friends die, especially in such a disturbing way. Being tied up and then boiled alive…

He smashed his face into his pillow, trying and failing to drive away any errant thoughts about Shinguji.

_‘She wanted a hundred friends. All girls... So I decided to send them to her in the afterlife.’_

What even _was_ Saihara feeling? Guilt? Regret? Frustration? He wished he could’ve talked about it more alone with Shinguji, without anyone else there. He wished that Shinguji hadn’t died the way he did, at the time he did. He didn’t want to think about the way everyone else had looked at him and Shinguji like they were sharing some sort of secret, like they were confused and wanted to know what it meant.

What had Shinguji been thinking the whole time, with his unstable memories? What had he been thinking when he started screaming about being set up, when he seemed to realize that he was somehow tricked into committing murder twice over? What made him get that look of realization on his face, made him scream for an apology, only to be dragged down into that hellish pot of fire? What was he about to say?

...He had looked so terrified and alone.

And all those other little things... The things about Shinguji’s sister, the fact that Shinguji couldn’t remember anything any details about being a serial killer, the way he had frozen in a trance, like he had just seen some sort of memory, the screaming and crying and agony as he--

_Enough._

Saihara shifted again, staring at his dorm ceiling.

_Do you think it’s your fault,_ _[$%!%#@]? _the voice asked._ It very well might be. Who knows… if Shinguji were a more terrible person, you could’ve been the victim instead._

_Piss off, _Saihara replied in his head. _My name is Shuichi._

It didn’t mean a thing now. His motive video, Shinguji’s reasoning-- it didn’t mean anything anymore.

Saihara moved yet again, this time getting up from his bed to pace back and forth. He was too restless.

Did anyone else have any reason to murder now? No, right? There weren’t gonna be any more dumb twists, right? Like another person suddenly remembers they’re a serial killer, or suddenly recalls a secret responsibility as prime minister or something else equally stupid and ridiculous. And even if someone did remember something like that-- from a flashback light or a motive video or the headaches-- what could Saihara do?

_If anything, you ought to do something to prevent it before it happens, _the voice in his head advised.It sneered._ But you can’t do that, can you? You and your talent are both worthless. Only being able to help people solve mysteries after they’re dead. And even then, you just send one more person to their own demise afterwards! You’re more like the Ultimate Arbiter or the Ultimate Grim Reaper than a Detective--_

Saihara punched the wall, taking in a shaky breath.

There was actually a small dent left-- even after training with Momota and Harukawa all those nights, Saihara was surprised to see that he’d built up muscle so quickly. But he didn’t really care, since the dorms were soundproof anyway.

_Shut up_, Saihara thought. _Be quiet. We’re already in a bad situation as it is. Things’ll end up alright eventually._

He still felt dubious as he shoved down his anxious, overbearing thoughts, but some positivity was better than none. Saihara changed his clothes and went to bed, clicking off the lights and setting his watch on the nightstand as he pulled the covers over.

_I wonder if the others are okay, _he thought briefly. _Those who cried-- myself, Gonta-kun, Iruma-san, and Yumeno-san-- are one thing, but those who didn’t cry must also be holding in a lot of pain. Like Kaito, Maki, and Ouma-kun… and Kiibo-kun, since he naturally can’t cry to begin with._

_Iruma-san in particular…_ _even though she cried a little bit, _she _didn’t really look like herself while everyone was walking back to the dorms. _

He yawned, drifting off to sleep. _And then there was Ouma-kun… with his concussion...._

=

Shirogane switched screens again._ Nobody wants to watch a detective sleep, even if he’s someone as important to the story as Saihara… _She decided to tune in to Iruma’s lab. _Well, I’m sure people would, but watching hours of that kind of feed would be boring, even for a voyeur. _

She cracked her knuckles, then rested her chin in her hands, staring intently at the screen. _Time to watch what our horny little inventor is doing._

=

Enough was enough, Iruma decided, tinkering some more on the computer program. It had been a little over two hours since she’d come into her lab. Her notes had been a good framework, so she decided to work on creating a viable VR headset while she waited on the actual computer room to open up.

Aside from her own desire to escape and leave behind the careless, frivolous survivors she was stuck with… Iruma also felt that she had to be the next one to make a move, period. A brilliant, beautiful girl genius like her couldn’t afford to stay in a place like this any longer. Nice Leader Girl Akamatsu turned out to be an accidental murderer, Bitter Maid Mom-Slash-Prime-Minister Toujo secretly hated them all and wanted to escape alone, and now Creepy Incel Shinguji turned out to be some sort-of-not-really batshit amnesiac serial killer?

How the fuck did she, Iruma Miu, get stuck with such fucking lunatics?

She couldn’t be left to die here, least of all by one of their disgusting hands. All qualms about murder and sacrifice aside, Iruma had to take charge herself-- both if she wanted to avoid death and if she wanted to actually escape.

The rules of this academy were too strange-- what was with the way Shinguji and his screaming had been totally covered up? And the way Ouma’s concussion disappeared as soon as the trial finished? There were too many logical fallacies all at once. 

Well, not like Iruma cared-- she couldn’t give less of a shit about this academy. But at the very least, if she murdered someone in a world of her own creation, it’d be easier to hide the evidence. Hence the digital world.

“As for a murder target…” She muttered to herself, clipping some wires for the VR headsets, “Ouma Kokichi.” This was because he was 1. short and scrawny enough for her to take on, and 2. _definitely_ too smart and would _definitely_ be murdering her soon if she didn’t act. Why else would someone who steered clear of everyone be constantly talking to her and asking her to invent random shit for him? Fluttering his eyelashes and trying to cozy up to her even though around all the others he usually just acted like a clown and skipped away?

“And as for the other target… Saihara Shuichi.”

=

Oh, _hell _no. She wasn’t going to lay a single _finger_ on Shirogane’s precious detective. Saihara was crucial to the Danganronpa format! 

Shirogane clicked her tongue in annoyance. _I’ll have to dispatch Monokuma--!_

=

It was common sense, really. If Iruma wanted to actually get away with the murder and escape, she’d have to win the trial, and by this point, she’d be stupid to think she could win a trial without getting rid of the detective who kept solving all the damn cases. 

Mere seconds later, there was knocking on her lab door. Iruma startled, nearly dropping her wire clippers. She swore, muttering more to herself as she went to open the door. Then, she hesitated. _Who’d be here this late at night, right after a trial…?_

“Open up your door, Iruma! I have a message for you!” Monokuma’s irritating voice traveled through the door.

_Ah, this fucking bitch of a bear,_ Iruma thought. She opened the door.

And was met with beady red eyes glowing menacingly at her. 

“Uh,” she swallowed thickly. “Uhhhh?” A beat. “The fuck are--”

“I’m always watching, you know? Did you forget about the monitors, Iruma?” Monokuma asked sweetly-- jarring, really, considering his face was still angry-- and _oh, yeah,_ she had kinda forgotten that she wasn’t totally allowed privacy even within her lab.

“Well, whatever,” Monokuma sighed, not letting Iruma even speak up. His eyes glowed again. “I’m here to tell you that whatever plans you were creating just then need to change.”

Iruma frowned. “What--”

“Quiet down,” Monokuma ordered. He smiled (if robot bears like him could smile at all). “Your plans for murder. Change them.”

The air around them had changed. It was already tense, but now it was frigid.

_Act like a dumb slut, fast!_ her instincts screamed. “Eeeeek,” she whimpered, holding her wrists up and rubbing her knees together like she was trying to hold something in. “I don’t…! I don’t know…”

Monokuma either hated her sex-crazed actions or didn’t care about them, because he ignored it in favor of putting a mechanical claw on the doorframe. “I heard you were planning on killing Ouma and Saihara in a double murder when you get the chance. That isn’t gonna fly. Change your plans. This is an order.”

Iruma dropped the act, narrowing her eyes. “Why?” she growled. “So I can go along with your dumbshit fucking killing game?” She flipped him off. “I’m here to escape and I’m here to win. If I want to survive, I’ll do what I have to do, and in this case, that means killing both of ‘em. ‘Sides, weren’t you the one who said you’d never interfere in a murder?”

Monokuma sighed dramatically. “You’re misunderstanding me, aren’t you? The fact that you’re gonna commit murder isn’t the problem.” He put his hands on his hips (did he have hips???). “I guess I have no choice.”

Suddenly, he morphed, revealing a gun in his paw out of nowhere. If he wasn’t threatening her in the dark with no other witnesses but the moon and the stars, Iruma would’ve guffawed at the sight.

“Here’s my deal,” Monokuma’s red eye glimmered, and Iruma's head hurt a bit more just looking at it. “First off, you can murder someone if you like, Iruma, but it cannot be a double murder. We’ve already had one of those, you can’t just shake it up like that!”

Iruma stayed quiet; Monokuma went on.

“Secondly… your target cannot be Saihara Shuichi or Kiibo. If you target one or both of them anyway, I guarantee you will be killed.”

This was terrifying. Thoughts raced through her head faster than bullets, but of them all one rang clearest:

_Why Saihara?_

Was he the mastermind? Why else would Monokuma threaten to kill her if she tried to lay a finger on him? It didn’t make any sense. 

Why was Ouma okay, but not Saihara? 

More confusing than that, why did Kiibo’s name come up? What did he have to do with anything in this conversation?

“Just a robot son sticking up for his robot father, silly,” Monokuma said breezily, and _oh, _she said that last bit out loud. “Even if I’m threatening my mommy right now, I can’t just ignore family ties to my daddy!”

“Who the fuck are you calling your mother?” Iruma’s eye twitched.

Monokuma snickered. “It was a joke to diffuse the tension.”

Iruma scowled_. Diffuse the tension, my ass. You’re still holding the gun._

He was still holding the gun…

Iruma swallowed again. “Fine,” she croaked out, making fists at her side to stop her trembling. “I won’t murder Saihara. Or Kiibo, though he wasn’t on my target list to begin with.”

“Good girl!” Monokuma crooned. Iruma shivered at the praise, disgusted by the fact that she liked it even though it was coming from the thing she hated most in this place. 

Monokuma hopped back a step, waving goodbye. “I’m off to the casino! Bye-bye! Don’t tell anyone else about this meeting, now!”

Iruma shut the door, shuddering after she locked it. _Kiibo aside, this is too suspicious, _she thought. _Saihara…_

_Wait a minute_, she realized with startling clarity. It _would_ make sense for the mastermind to be Saihara. There’s no way a normal detective could be that freakishly smart-- smarter than her, even. Smart to the point that he could lead all the trials and do most of the deducting and evidence presentation, and actually be right about everything. No way. 

But if Saihara was the mastermind, he’d know from the start who committed the murders, because he had all the monitors constantly watching for him.

Iruma laughed. Yes! It totally made sense! Saihara was solving these cases so that more people would get executed, and so that new trials could begin. It was all a little game to him. They were all just toys, putty in his hands.

She’d overheard some things here and there about his parents being famous actors or something earlier-- and didn’t that just explain everything? If he had family who knew how to act, then it wasn’t a stretch to say he knew how to act either. It was so simple! Saihara was acting like a nice detective. He was acting like a quiet, stoic hero, putting on a show to cover up his fucked up involvement in the killing game. 

Iruma was the first and only one to figure it out, and now, she had to do whatever it took to fight him back. She grit her teeth. _Even if I can’t kill him directly, I can at least give him a fucking challenge at the trial. Try to solve this, you masterminding motherfucking virgin._

Saihara was no tech genius... if his shitty wristwatch had anything to say about it. He’d have _no_ _idea_ how to solve this. Iruma calculated the new parts of her plan, deciding to change the settings in the digital world she’d create so that Saihara’s avatar wouldn’t freeze, mumbling about making sure he wouldn’t be there to catch her or Ouma. She let out a breath.

Exhausting. She had to resort to murder to survive, and it was exhausting. Maybe more so than being in a damn coma.

_Time to distract myself by making those Electrobomb and Electrohammer things Ouma wanted, I guess_, Iruma thought, making her way to her lab table to tinker._ But one thing’s for sure…_

_...I’ll evade the mastermind and escape with my own strength._

=

Ouma slumped down against the side of the lab building, eyes wide, heart beating wildly in his chest.

Iruma was planning to kill him.

She was going to--

He ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. _Fuck, fuck, shit, goddammit_, he’d have to alter_ all of his plans_ to account for this. And here Ouma had been thinking he’d managed to gain Iruma’s trust after all the time they spent together making new inventions. Ha!

Trust… of _course_ he couldn’t trust anyone. How had he even deluded himself into thinking they could be friends? 

His mind raced._ If Iruma’s like this, then… _

_...who’s to say that the others aren’t like that, too?_

Could he even trust Gonta? Or anyone else? What reason did Monokuma have to name-drop Saihara and Kiibo in his List Of People To Not Kill? Why protect those two specifically? Were they involved in creating the killing game? 

Well, Kiibo was obvious-- naturally Monokuma wouldn’t want his precious little camera destroyed. But Saihara, on the other hand…

_You can’t trust anyone. Even if they interest you, or if they trigger your memory headaches, or if they talk to you a lot here. You can’t rely on them. All you have is yourself._

_They’re all just acting. Everyone is lying. They’re all secretly out to get you, and they only pretend to be dumb or nice so that they can take you off-guard and then kill you. Even someone like Gonta is just hiding his true self so that he can laugh at you later on._

_They want to kill you. Even someone like Gonta, who keeps calling you his friend, is acting like someone dumb and nice. He doesn’t actually care. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be ridiculous. Your life isn’t normal. This situation is life or death. They’re all out to get you. They know everything. They’re watching you._

_You’re not being unreasonable or scared. You’re not paranoid like Mom. It’s just how things are at an academy like this._

_You need to act if you want to survive._

Ouma carefully tiptoed away from Iruma’s lab, then walked towards the casino.

The gears in his mind were already turning. _Calm. Cool and calm. Cool and calm and evil. You want to make the game more fun. You don’t want to escape. Everyone’s after you and they all want you dead, but you don’t care. It’s all fun. It’s all a game. You’re evil. You need to stay alive for the time being and find a way to make sure she can’t kill you just yet, because you’re evil and this is fun. You have a plan and it’ll help you survive. You won’t die. They can’t kill you._

_They won’t even want to kill you if you **become** the mastermind..._

As he opened the door to the casino, Ouma saw Monokuma.

Ouma put on his signature ill-bearing grin. “Ooh, didn’t expect to see you here,” he lied. “Is it really okay for me to be talking to you in private?”

“Well, if it isn’t Ouma,” Monokuma snickered. “No, technically it’s not breaking the rules. What’s up?” 

“To tell you the truth,” Ouma twirled his hair. “I had an idea to make the killing game more… _interesting, _if you will.”

Monokuma’s red eye gleamed; Ouma wrinkled his nose, the faint scent of antiseptic returning to him. “Well, why didn’t you say so! I can’t possibly pass up an opportunity like that!”

Ouma smiled brightly, raising his hands up. “Riiiiight? I was thinking the same thing! This fun and vicious killing game is the only thing on my mind right now! I can’t wait to make it better!”

Monokuma put up a paw in front of his face, questioning. “So, what do you have in mind?”

Ouma sighed, disinterestedly checking his nails. “A-haha, you don’t get it at all, do you, Monokuma? We need a crazier motive than just books or videos… It needs to be something that can be used more… mm, _dramatically, _don’tcha think? That’s what I’ve been thinking.”

Monokuma stood still, listening intently all the while. 

_That better mean I’m doing well._

Ouma placed a finger over his lips, barely hiding his cheshire grin. “Here’s my proposal… A certain _someone_ is planning on doing something interesting. If we use the motive in that place, I think it’ll reeeeally spice up the game.” Ouma’s eyes glittered. “What do you think? Are you in?”

_If we put a motive in Iruma’s virtual world, I can drag someone else into it. One of the people who clearly is out to get me. Make them take the blame…_

_...and have them kill her before she can kill me. _

_It breaks DICE’s rules, but it’s what I have to do to survive._

Monokuma laughed. “You really are a manipulative bastard, aren’t you?”

_Showtime, baby._

“Of course,” Ouma giggled. “I am the Ultimate Supreme Leader for a reason, y’know.” He made the most grotesque face he could manage and deepened his voice. “I will drag this world into the pits of terror, using my villainous power to commit evil!”

He laughed and laughed and laughed, even when Monokuma joined him, even after Monokuma decided to leave the casino, and even after he’d decided that the whole charade was sickening him to his core.

=

_I don’t know how Monokuma got to Iruma’s lab or to the casino so quickly, but this…_

_Oh, this is glorious_.

Deep within the school, alone in her mastermind room, Shirogane Tsumugi laughed.

She laughed, thinking of Momota hacking and coughing blood into his hands alone in the courtyard, his dread and fear rising along with his desire to keep it all a secret.

<strike>It's so cruel--</strike>

She laughed, thinking of Saihara fidgeting in his room, muttering to himself, musing about Shinguji and the trial and everything else that had transpired until now.

<strike>Stop it--</strike>

She laughed, thinking of Iruma’s horrified confusion and racing mind, certainly believing that the mastermind was Saihara now that Monokuma had threatened her.

<strike>Snap out of it--</strike>

She laughed, thinking of the way Ouma’s fear drove his mental calculations, of the way he made a fool of himself in front of Monokuma, lying and acting like an evil madman and _absolutely destined to die at this rate_.

<strike>All you're doing is torturing them--!</strike>

The last three major threats to be eliminated were all on a highway to hell. A road to death, and they were all metaphorically in a flaming car, slamming on the gas pedal! The pace was picking up, and the plot would only get more wild from here. Her memory headaches, her qualms about it all-- they didn't matter. She could easily push them aside. All for the sake of Danganronpa, she could push them aside...

The show would go on. Her act would continue.

Shirogane grinned, face flushed with enthusiasm.

_Season 53’s mind games couldn’t be better._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END SECTION 3.
> 
> yall: man saihara's gonna go into shinguji's love hotel scenario this time huh  
me: lmao sike
> 
> As much as I'd love to rewrite Shinguji's love hotel scenario, now isn't the time, ahaha.
> 
> Section 4 will start next week! As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading, kudosing, and commenting this far. I really love writing and sharing this story, and I'm glad that so many of you enjoy it.


	27. 4-1. Live and Let the Languid World Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Books and movies make Shirogane's act fall apart, if only for a second.
> 
> Illness chips away at Momota's facade, bit by bit.
> 
> An English lesson and a paranoid research session break Ouma's composure enough to do something more rash...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update was a few hours late! I had some IRL things keeping me busy over the weekend, so I couldn't get my usual head start on the chapter. **Please note that Thursday's chapter may also be affected by this.** Thank you all for your patience (;^^)9
> 
> On another note, I managed to get A+'s on all my classes this semester! :'D big yeet. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Lots of <strike>what I hope is funny</strike> humor and new revelations. Here we go!

The next morning was, as it always had been after an execution, awkward.

Saihara stared into his bowl of miso soup at breakfast, physically unable to bring himself to eat it, or even move a chopstick towards it. The vegetables sat lifelessly in the piping hot broth. 

(Like Shinguji.)

Saihara gulped and hesitantly moved his chopstick in, trying to force the thoughts out of his head. The soup formed a bubble from the movement.

(Like Shinguji’s last breaths before he finally sank for good…)

Saihara put the chopsticks down and took the bowl back to the kitchen, feeling sick. “Sorry…” he apologized to Monotaro, who despite his annoying activity, had probably made the soup in remembrance that morning for the other three Monokubs who’d died along with Shinguji. “I know you worked hard to make it, but I’m gonna make toast for myself instead.”

“Hm?” Monotaro tilted his head. “Oh, no. Those are just reheated leftovers!”

Saihara twitched. _This bear…_

“I just restocked some fruits if you’d like those, too,” Monophanie blinked innocently. “Having just toast and butter isn’t healthy for you, especially if you’re all stuck in one place for such a long period of time.”

“Stuck in one place?” Monotaro repeated. “They’re moving around the academy just fine! It’s super big!”

Monophanie beamed at him. “No, they’re all sedentary.”

“Sedan Tariff?”

Monophanie sighed. “Oh, you…”

Saihara decided at last to ignore them and make his toast. While he waited for it to cook, he found some of the fruit that Monophanie had been talking about. 

_Hm… Just strawberries should be okay. I’ve never seen this big an assortment of fruit before…_

“Oh, they have a good selection,” a voice came from behind him. At the same time, the toaster popped out Saihara’s toast; Saihara shrieked.

Kiibo put his hands out in front of him. “Ah! Saihara-kun, are you okay?! It wasn’t my intention to scare you--”

“No, I’m fine,” Saihara sighed, hand over his heart. “Just warn someone next time…”

Kiibo looked at the fruits. “It’s weird... I thought fruit was super expensive in Japan.”

Saihara blinked. It was, but why did Kiibo’s sentence make it seem like…?

“We have unlimited money!” Monophanie grinned. 

“That’s impossible,” Kiibo retorted, rolling his eyes as he got up on his tiptoes to reach an apple from the pile in the cupboards. “No matter what sort of organization you’re part of, there’s no way that you have unlimited amounts of money at your disposal.”

“You can believe whatever you want in your dreams!” Monophanie grinned.

Saihara shook his head, taking his toast and strawberries and going to the cafeteria to eat. 

“That rock has more letters on it!” Gonta insisted. “It means someone’s trying to send a message, right? We have to go see together!”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno skillfully shuffled a deck of cards, pensive. “We don’t _have_ to see, do we? At this point, I dunno if it’ll even do any good…”

“I-I think Gonta-kun is right, though,” Shirogane stammered. She got up. “Let’s go see it. Y-You never know…”

“Can--” Saihara gestured helplessly to his toast. “Can I finish eating first…?”

Shirogane looked flustered. “A-Ah! Of course. Silly me.”

Saihara quickly ate and returned his dish to the sink, deciding to wash it later. “Let’s go, then.”

They all went to the rock in the courtyard.

“See?!” Gonta furrowed his brows. “More letters!”

Saihara peered over to get a look at the rock. Sure enough, Gonta was right. Now, the rock read: 

his wor d s ine

O ma o ichi

“‘His word sine O mao itchy’?” Harukawa pronounced with some difficulty. She scoffed. “This is ridiculous.”

What piqued Saihara’s curiosity more, however, was the flashback light that was sitting right next to the rock.

=

_A flashback light? Shit._

Ouma was instantly more alert. _The mastermind must know that I’m responsible for this. They put this here to threaten me, or scare me somehow--_

=

At the very least, Shirogane wanted to gain some data out of this.

<strike>You’re becoming more like </strike>

Everyone’s reactions would be important to watch. Fun, too.

_If Ouma’s so willing to play the villain, all the more reason for me to benefit. I can play the blame game and pin everything on him, just like I did with Akamatsu… It’ll take all the attention from plain little Shirogane._

(Her head hurt, but she ignored it.)

“Flashback light, huh…” Momota gulped. “I…”

“I don’t trust it,” Iruma narrowed her eyes. “The rest ‘a you, though…”

Saihara shook his head. “You all heard… You all heard what Shinguji-kun said. At the end of the trial.” He took in a shaky breath as he turned around to face the others. “None of us did end up promising him like he’d asked, since it was too last-minute, but… He told us not to look at them. _‘Don’t touch them, don’t open them’, _in such a frantic voice...”

Iruma narrowed her eyes even more.

Yumeno knit her brows. “He suffered for what he did… but those words felt different, didn’t they? Like a serious, heartfelt warning.”

Harukawa nodded. “He definitely wasn’t right in the head, but if a flashback light is what caused that for him… I’m not risking it.”

“I agree,” Kiibo nodded. “To honor Akamatsu-san’s wish that we end the game, and to make sure that none of our friends’ deaths were in vain… we can’t look at these flashback lights, or the so-called real memories they give us.”

“Lights that make people do bad things and kill should be broken,” Gonta said, a sudden rage erupting from him. “Angie-san was right!”

Before anyone could say anything, Gonta picked up the flashback light and smashed it against the rock, completely destroying it and rendering it useless.

The others weren’t even upset, though. Despite their surprise at his outburst, they smiled, patted Gonta on the back, and even sighed in relief, believing that nobody else could get manipulated.

_That settles it though, _Shirogane thought, still chipper even though Shinguji had ultimately put a permanent dent in her plans._ For this chapter, I’ll unlock the flashback light room._

_There’s no point in keeping it locked. If nobody’s gonna look at the flashback lights, there’s no point in me making them. I’ll still leave the cloaking device in there, just to hide the flashback light creator while everyone’s still awake… I’ll take it back to the bookshelf room later tonight._

_And in the meantime, I’ll think of a new alternative…_

=

The flashback lights didn’t matter to Iruma. Nor did the rock.

The only things that really counted were the outside world and her plan to murder. Iruma didn’t care about anything within this little cage anymore. It didn’t matter! All she had to do was work on that computer program, commit the murder, and escape. 

_These idiots can live and let this languid world live however foolishly they want to, but once I actually set my plan into motion, they’re all finished._

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of Monokuma appearing. “Well! It seems you’ve all done your fair share of looking at absolutely inane, boring crap today. I’m here to brighten up everything and tell you guys that the fifth floor and a few other places have been unlocked!”

Everyone stared. “Okay?” Yumeno asked, wrinkling her nose.

Monokuma suddenly looked pissed. “What are you waiting for?! Go! Explore! Shoo!” He turned to Kiibo. “Your lab in particular’s been opened up, Daddy, so you might as well see it!”

And then he left.

_“‘Daddy?’”_ Iruma asked, incredulous. _Weird, he’s called me Mommy before. There’s no way even Monokuma’s teasing us about…_

Kiibo sighed, waving away Monokuma’s words.

Iruma followed Kiibo’s gaze to her own lab, with the building that was attached to it. He then turned to her, excitedly latching onto her arm. “Let’s go, Iruma-san!”

“N-No way, I have other shit I gotta do!” she protested, somewhat flushed.

Kiibo bit his lip, whining a little bit as he tugged emphatically on her arm. “Please? This whole time both of us have been thinking that attached place is probably mine, and now that it’s open you don’t want to see it?”

Iruma could physically feel everyone else’s gazes on them, silently and amusedly judging. She shivered. “F-Fine! I’ll come with you…”

_Definitely not because I care or anything… I have other people I care about outside, too. This is just to stave off his suspicions a liiiiiittle while longer…_

=

“Whyyyyyyy is it so robotic and futuristic looking?!”

Saihara had decided to follow Kiibo and Iruma-- it would be better to see whatever was open in the courtyard before going into the main building.

Kiibo’s whining was particularly loud. Iruma just scoffed, warily looking at Saihara from the corner of her eye.

“Ironic that you of all people’d fuckin’ hate this stuff, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” Iruma sighed. “You’re so alike…”

Saihara raised a brow, smiling awkwardly. “Kiibo-kun, don’t you think all this technology could be helpful?”

Kiibo gave him a withering glare. “Well, sure, but…” he shook his fists. “If it’s _my_ lab, it should have more stuff that _I_ actually like, right? Like windchimes and kimonos and other beautiful, cultural items! I hate technology!”

“Even water filtration?” Saihara asked, somewhat more deadpan. 

Kiibo crossed his arms. “You know that’s not what I meant. I like culture! Something like music or the arts!” He beamed. “I can even demonstrate my singing for you! Please listen--”

Iruma immediately ran through the doors that connected to her own lab; Saihara stood where he was, confusedly looking back and forth.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHGHGHHGHGHAAAAAAHAHAAAAAAAAHHH.”

Saihara went outside to puke.

Kiibo followed him expectantly. “Well?” he grinned. “Wasn’t it good?”

_I threw up and he still has no clue that means he’s absolutely terrible… Truly Iruma-san’s companion. But at the same time, I don’t wanna sound mean or crush his dreams…_

Iruma cackled from the door to her lab, walking out to meet them with a pair of earmuffs in her hand. It had ‘SUPER HIGH SOUND RESISTANT EARMUFFS’ written on the side. 

“I’m terrible, aren’t I…” Kiibo’s eyes watered, though as a robot there was no way he could cry.

“N-No, just… Your voice is very…” Saihara grimaced. “Unique.”

Kiibo beamed. “Thank you!”

“SO,” Iruma coughed not-so-subtly. “There’s a room I think I’d like that’s prolly open by now. Come with me, Kiibo!” She yanked him by the arm and dragged him away despite his confusion, avoiding Saihara’s gaze all the while.

_She feels off somehow,_ Saihara thought, confused. _And like she’s avoiding me… Did I do something? What’s up with her?_

=

Ouma, meanwhile, had headed directly to the fifth floor. Specifically, to Amami’s lab.

_Fucking finally. If it’s officially open now, I might be able to go inside--_

He was dismayed to see that the concrete wall was still set up in front of the lab. “What the… Why?”

“Um…” 

Ouma turned and was met with the red Monokub staring up at the wall next to him. “What, bot?” Ouma grinned.

Monotaro twiddled his thumbs. “Well… According to the rules, if a student died before their lab was unveiled, it would be permanently closed off, even if construction was finished. That’s the case with this one.”

_Which means even now I’ll have to sneak around and find a way in. Fucking… dammit._

“Hmm…” Ouma hummed, putting his hands behind his head. “O~kay! I’d explore the other rooms, but that sorta thing’s only fun with others. I’ll meet up with the rest of ‘em!” 

Saying so, he fled down the stairs.

=

Saihara shook his head. _I can think about Iruma-san acting weird later. It’s not like she isn’t always weird in other ways to begin with…_

He decided to leave Kiibo’s lab and go see the main building-- namely, the fifth floor. But before he could get there, he was confused to see the door to a first floor classroom open.

Even more confusing was the sound of people inside it. 

_What…?_ Then he remembered that the room _had_ actually been locked away all those weeks ago, at the very beginning of the game. A bittersweet feeling curled in Saihara’s chest. _It’s the room right next to the one where Kaede and I woke up…_

He stepped inside and was surprised to see that it was a completely ordinary classroom. Everyone aside from Ouma, Kiibo, and Iruma was inside, shifting the desks around and carrying textbooks-- all high school level, on a variety of subjects. Shirogane cleaned the blackboard, sneezing as the chalk dust drifted onto her.

Saihara furrowed his brows. _Why was a normal classroom locked…?_

“What’s with the face, Shuichi?” Momota asked, grinning. Saihara snapped out of it.

“Oh…” Saihara blinked. “Nothing much. On the other hand, what are you guys doing?”

Harukawa looked at him curiously from a corner of the room.

Momota beamed. “We’ve decided to make this place seem more like a real academy. An actual school, y’know? One small step for us, one giant leap for mankind! And stuff like that.”

“He _means,” _Yumeno scoffed, opening a textbook and somehow taking out a live pigeon from inside its pages, “that we’re trying to move forward past everyone’s deaths.” She smiled, letting the pigeon fly off. “Making this academy more like an actual school’s the first step to peace.”

“We’re using this place as the homeroom since it’s the first normal classroom to be unlocked,” Harukawa walked over. “All the other places have weird wires over the boards, and the ambience is too creepy.”

“I see,” Saihara remarked. He smiled, taking in everyone’s efforts. “It’s a nice idea. I like it. Can I help?”

“P-Please-- _achoo!”_ Shirogane sneezed again, looking harried as she sniffed and pushed her wrists against her watery eyes. “Please c-clean the chalkboard, if it’s-- um, if it’s not too much trouble!” She shoved the tools into Saihara’s chest, then took a case sitting next to her feet and speed-walked out the door, covering up her face with her arm. “I’m gonna freshen up in the bathroom! S-Sorry to everyone, but I’ll-- um, that is, yeah-- um, I’ll be back soon! Please don’t follow me, I look ugly with this rash--!”

She left. 

“What was that case?” Saihara asked once Shirogane was out of the room.

Gonta spoke up. “Ah, they were Shirogane-san’s allergy medications! She brought them with her.” He scratched his cheek, sheepish. “Gonta saw the box in this room and thought it was weird that the classroom had it, but then Shirogane-san said that she brought it in with her. It wasn’t part of the room.”

“Ah, I forgot to mention--” Momota gave a thumbs up. “We’ve set the first class period to be after lunch today! I’m already thinkin’ of stuff to teach you guys…”

Just then, Kiibo grumbled as he walked in, followed by a horse-like laugh. “Shut up, Ouma-kun!”

“Awww, is the widdle wobot sad?” Ouma giggled, poking and prodding at Kiibo.

“Quit it, you’re being robophobic!” Kiibo smacked his hand away.

“You’re jealous that Iruma-chan seems to love the computer all of a sudden more than she loves youuuuu,” Ouma cooed, grinning mischievously. He took in a deep breath, then began practically shouting: “KIIBOY AND IRUMAAA, SITTING IN A TREE-- _MMMPHH--”_

Kiibo had slapped a hand over Ouma’s mouth, but was blushing up a storm. “I said shut _up! _Stop teasing us!”

Ouma attempted to bite him and failed; Kiibo grinned, smug. “I have an on/off switch for the pain receptors in my hands.”

With a sudden and swift movement, Ouma wriggled down and kicked Kiibo behind his kneecaps, eliciting a cry of pain from the robot; he swiftly escaped Kiibo’s hold after. “Huuuuh, why doesn’t it work for your kneecaps too?” Ouma said, eyes wide in faux innocence. He snickered. “Which moron designed you, Kiiboy?”

Saihara could only stare as he watched the whole ordeal. _He’s like a cat..._

He was snapped out of his reverie by Harukawa nudging his shoulder. “I have a question for you,” she whispered. “But later.”

Saihara nodded silently. _What does she want to talk about…?_

Kiibo sighed; Momota had just explained the whole school plan to Kiibo and Ouma. “Iruma-san will… probably skip it. She seems to be looking forward to tinkering on that computer…”

Ouma snickered again; Kiibo nudged him with slightly more calculated force than necessary, making Ouma stumble sideways.

Momota puffed up his chest, then coughed a bit. “Well! Since I, the Luminary of the Stars, came up with this idea, I’m insistin’ that everyone show up.” He turned to Gonta. “Gonta!” he called out sharply, throat a bit scratchy; Gonta jumped slightly in surprise. Momota pointed at Gonta, then at Ouma, connecting the two. “Drag this guy here if you have to. I know that Ouma’ll prolly find a way to sneak out or not show, even if he’s pure.”

_‘“Pure’?” _Ouma balked, incredulous. It may have been Saihara’s imagination, but for a split second, Ouma’s expression afterward made it look like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Ouma scoffed. “Coming from an absolute idiot like Momota-chan, that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. People call me annoying and bratty, as I should be, but nobody’s called me ‘pure’ before.”

_I dunno, I can sort of see it, _Saihara mused. _He seems like the kind of person who can’t possibly be this obnoxious on accident. Almost like he’s trying to lighten up the mood..._

Ouma clicked his tongue. “Momota-chan’s just a dumbass screaming shounen manga protagonist though, so of course he’d wanna go with the power of friendship and making a cutesy bad guy like me seem good!”

Momota squawked. “‘Dumbass screaming’--” his face turned red with irritation. “Take that back!”

“Ouma-kun, you’re not bad! Stop saying that!” Gonta chided.

A high-pitched gasp came from the door. “Did someone say shounen manga?!” Shirogane positively sparkled, absolutely delighted.

“Oh!” Gonta exclaimed. He beamed. “Gonta’s glad your allergies are feeling better, Shirogane-san!”

Shirogane nodded, then looked around. “You all seem like you’re done here, too… And Ouma-kun and Kiibo-kun are with us now… W-Wait, where’s Iruma-san?”

“In the computer lab with her new _boooyfriend,_” Ouma giggled.

Kiibo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you _five?”_ he muttered.

“I told ya before, bot,” Ouma jabbed. “I’m fifteen.”

“B-Boyf--” Shirogane stuttered, pink, then calmed down. “O-Oh, you mean… a computer, right? If it’s a computer lab, she’s with a computer, not a person...”

“Iruma-san locked the door,” Kiibo shoved at Ouma, blatantly yelling over Ouma’s increasingly loud mocking kissing noises, “so we’ll all have to see that room later. For now, we can go to the fifth floor to see what’s opened up there.”

_They’re like toddlers who cannot and will not get along, _Saihara smiled at the sight. _It’s insanely dumb, but it’s also kind of refreshing that we’re all able to act more like kids._

“Let’s go, then,” Shirogane smiled.

Saying so, they all left.

=

_I had to get rid of the flashback light creator early since Gonta accidentally saw it in the classroom, but it doesn’t matter. I was able to take it to the bookshelf room without arousing suspicion. Lucky me, being able to fake sneezes and rashes…_

Amami’s lab was still locked and hidden behind the concrete wall, according to the few screens she’d managed to get a look at while she was in the bookshelf room. That meant the only portions of the fifth floor that were open were Saihara’s lab and Shirogane’s own.

“This place looks kinda fashion-y,” Yumeno commented through her teeth, taking out a never-ending loop of colored scarves from her mouth. “And there’s another room over there that has a magnifying glass, so maybe it’s Saihara’s?”

Shirogane’s eyes widened. “D-Do you think the fashion-y one is mine, then?” She pointed at herself.

Harukawa shrugged. “Could be. Open it.”

Shirogane opened the door. 

It was a big lab. There were several different sets and stages, and the biggest variety of costumes Shirogane had ever seen. She clasped her hands together, letting out an excited (and faked) squeal. “This is perfect!”

“I wonder if this place echoes,” Kiibo murmured. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Echo!”

_Echo!_

_Echo!_

_Echo!_

Momota and Ouma poked around the stage; Harukawa and Yumeno looked at some of the costumes.

“Shirogane-san,” Gonta tapped her gently on the shoulder. “Um… Gonta was wondering if you’d be able to cosplay a specific bug!”

Shirogane looked at the costumes behind her, then back at Gonta. “U-Um… the premade costumes all look like they’re meant for human character cosplay… and even if there were bug costumes, they probably wouldn’t be as accurate scientifically.”

Gonta sighed, somewhat dejected. “Gonta sees…”

“Hm? What’s this?” Saihara’s voice carried through the room. Everyone came over.

“It’s a bookshelf!” Monophanie touted proudly.

“How’d you get in here,” Harukawa asked, deadpan.

Monophanie pouted. “Rude, I’m always allowed everywhere.” She beamed. “Aaaanyway! This bookshelf has books on lots of topics I like! Totes check ‘em out!”

Shirogane blinked, looking closer at the spines of the books to read the titles.

_Neurology. Mental Illness. Anxiety. Depression. Sleep Therapy. Psychology--_

The pain in her head pierced her. Shirogane let out a scream, hands immediately flying up to her head.

The movie theater played, this time with sound.

A boy walking through a dark corridor, flashlight in hand._ ‘Shirogane-san,’ he whispered shakily. ‘Where are you?!’_

Flash forward.

A cold, thinly gloved hand covering her mouth, shoving two fingers in to choke back her scream--

Flash forward.

A cruel, perfect grin._ ‘You can’t save anyone, darling. There’s no point.’_

Flash forward.

_He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s--_

“Shirogane-san!”

“Am--” Shirogane froze, breathing heavily, blinking the tears away. 

It was Kiibo in front of her. Kiibo concernedly kneeling down, calling her name the same way Amami did. That same, concerned _‘Shirogane-san’..._

She couldn’t just yell out Amami’s name like that. It’d be too suspicious. What was she thinking, letting that movie theater memory slideshow get to her head?

“Shirogane-san, are you alright?” Kiibo placed two steadying hands on her shoulders. “You screamed and sounded like you were in a lot of pain.”

_Put on an act. These memories mean nothing._

Shirogane sniffled, allowing tears to spill through and her own voice to get choked up. She took off her glasses and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, crying and stuttering. “I- I don’t know what’s wrong, I-- T-The books, they just-- I don’t know, they made my head hurt s-so much--!”

Kiibo pressed his lips into a thin line, then helped her up. “Let’s leave this place,” he said-- to everyone, not only Shirogane in particular.

“We can check out my lab,” Saihara said quietly. “Let’s go.”

The others nodded grimly, each of them filing out as Kiibo gently led Shirogane away.

=

On their way to the door with a magnifying glass over it, they passed by the concrete wall in front of Amami’s lab.

Nobody else saw the door behind it, or even paid that section of wall any heed.

Ouma’s gaze lingered a bit, and then he continued onward with everyone else.

=

“How does it feel, finally bein’ able to see your own lab?” Momota elbowed Saihara good-naturedly, then coughed a bit.

“Mm…” Saihara put a finger over his mouth. “I guess… curious but not particularly excited? I’m not sure.”

He opened the door.

It was… very Sherlockian. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, and a comfortable looking armchair was set nearby, along with a simple yet beautiful rug.

“It’s quaint, I guess,” Saihara commented neutrally. There wasn’t anything that particularly stood out to him as detective-ish. In comparison to his uncle’s office at least, this lab wasn’t similar at all.

“What’s this bookshelf?” Yumeno furrowed her brows. She picked out a book.

Shirogane’s breath hitched; Kiibo and Gonta each put one of their hands on her shoulders, calming her down. She must’ve still been nervous from the bookshelf in her own lab...

Saihara walked over, peering over Yumeno’s shoulder.

“They’re all murder cases,” Yumeno bit her lip. “Nyeh… you take it,” she lifted the book upwards to give to Saihara. “I’m too squeamish to look more…”

Saihara flipped through the pages. Yumeno was right; they were murder cases. Summaries of cases, culprits, and victims…

He picked up a book from each row, comparing them. The ones towards the bottom all had drawings based on the verbal descriptions, and the ones in the middle and the top were all photographed. No one murder was the same; there was always some unique trick involved.

“Maybe it’s a training method?” Momota suggested. “Y’know, seeing murder mysteries might get your brain thinkin’.”

Saihara shook his head, putting the books back where they were according to the volume numbers on the spines-- 04, 19, 28, 37, 46, 51.

“Kaito might be right,” Harukawa thought aloud. “But it’s also weird that the shelves aren’t totally full. Shirogane’s lab had just one shelf that was totally filled up, so how come this one isn’t? There’s only two volumes on the top shelf when the rest of the shelves are full.”

_She’s right, _Saihara realized. _What does it mean…_

But before they could dwell on the books longer, Ouma spoke up. “Hey. What’s this cabinet of poisons doing here?”

“Don’t lie, I swear to--” Momota’s words died in his throat as he turned around. Ouma held out a bottle that had a cartoonish skull and crossbones drawn in the form of Monokuma’s head. 

“Lemme see,” Saihara immediately went over there, poring over the labels. He took a stunned step back. “These are all… poison… W-Why would this be in my lab?!”

Shirogane shivered. “It’s creepy…” she whimpered. “E-Even though the fire and armchair look warm and welcoming on the outside, the rest of the lab inside is cold…”

“It does look more like a murderer’s lab than a detective’s lab, doesn’t it,” Ouma commented, narrowing his eyes and smiling sweetly. “A sick serial killer…”

“G-Gonta can destroy the poisons for everyone! Gonta can smash it like the flashback light earlier!” Gonta offered, holding out his hands. “Gonta can be useful, so--”

“No, don’t,” Saihara interrupted. He bit his lip. “We don’t know what kinds of poisons some of these are. There’s too many shelves and bottles. Some of them could have materials too dangerous to even touch.”

Just then, there was a crashing noise; the sound of breaking glass.

Ouma swore, and Shirogane began frantically apologizing up and down. “I-I’m so sorry, oh my gosh, I can’t-- I can’t believe I was so clumsy, I’m sorry, Ouma-kun, I should’ve l-looked--”

“Cool it, Shirogane,” Momota sighed, as Ouma motioned for her to step back from the glass shards. “It’s not your fault. He should’ve put it back instead of just holding it out like that.”

Ouma clicked his tongue admonishingly. “Shirogane-chan, you gotta do better! I get that you’re scared, but that’s no excuse for being the biggest klutz of the century! Just step aside, or else you’ll be even more clumsy and break the shards into tinier pieces that’ll hurt more.”

There was a popping noise behind them. 

Suddenly, the shelves of poisons were completely full again.

“Y-You guys saw that, right?” Kiibo whirled around. “The--”

“The bottle replaced itself immediately,” Harukawa brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Meaning that even if we break them on purpose, they’ll just replenish.”

Then, Monotaro and Monophanie came in, a gigantic suction vacuum in their hands (paws?). “Sheesh!” Monotaro said.

“Sheesh indeed!” Monophanie grinned. “Cosplay-chan, you can’t be going around breaking things. We don’t like cleaning up around here!”

“Yeah, we’re not janitors!” Monotaro stuck out his tongue.

The bears quickly cleaned up the mess with their vacuum and left.

“Let’s…” Kiibo paused. “Let’s all agree not to go into this lab either. The information on how to pull off murders and the accessibility of poisons is too dangerous.”

“Ouma could still pick the locks, though,” Harukawa glared.

Ouma said nothing, only grinning.

Saihara looked at his watch. “It’s lunchtime. We should go eat.” He sighed.

Momota grinned. “Hey, yeah! We can go to the classroom and do the lesson stuff after. We all agreed, didn’t we?” He pumped a fist encouragingly. “We’re gonna have fun!”

=

Kiibo recollected their morning escapades to Iruma, who had graciously joined the others in lunch. That was the only gracious thing about the whole ordeal; she scarfed down her food much like a racoon gunning for a speed-eating world record.

Momota also (rather smugly, Saihara thought) told her about the classroom plan; Iruma waved it off.

“Ahm schkippin,” Iruma heavily swallowed the massive bite of food in her mouth. “I’m skippin’,” she reiterated, letting out a loud belch. She cackled.

Ouma laughed; Yumeno wrinkled her nose. “Gross…”

“No computer is more important than the passionate, burning fire of education!” Momota roared. “Join us, Iruma!”

“Nah,” Iruma scoffed. “‘m gonna pass. ‘Live and let the languid world live’, as I always say. You guys can do whatcha want.” She stretched, finished with her food. “Back to the computer lab!”

“Again?” Kiibo frowned. But Iruma had already left.

_Since when has she ever said that? _Saihara mused. _‘Live and let the languid world live’..._

Momota finished eating first. “F-Fine, but you’re missin’ out!” He beamed at the others. “I’ll go to the classroom to set it up, okay? You guys sit tight! Call me if ya need anythin’!”

“I can help,” Harukawa offered, pushing her plate away. She ate relatively little to begin with.

Momota grinned, though his breathing sounded a bit heavier . “Nah, no need, Harumaki! Stay with the others. I got this.”

=

Momota bolted to the bathroom, coughing and hacking out blood into the sink.

He still considered himself lucky that he hadn’t gotten blood on his hands and face and clothes in the main hallway, or worse, in the cafeteria proper.

Momota heaved heavy breaths. Once the last of the blood had made its way past his lips and his throat felt dry from the coughing, Momota turned on the sink tap and washed his hands, scrubbing them with soap as thoroughly as possible.

_Clothes check._ Nothing was stained with blood, not even his kabuki print shirt. As an assassin, Harukawa would be able to tell in an instant if he’d gotten blood on his clothes.

He washed his face and rinsed out his mouth next. Then, he moved a wet hand through his hair, keeping the gelled, dyed tips up. 

_No bags under your eyes, nothing. Perfect. Nothing out of place._

He flashed a grin in front of his reflection.

_Hero smile. Make sure nobody can see your pain. In fact… What pain? There isn’t pain to begin with. You’re the Luminary of the Stars. A hero. A protagonist. A leader. Leaders are put together, and so are you._

_You’re teaching them soon, too. You’re leading them._

Momota left the bathroom, headed to the classroom to prepare the few papers and lessons he had in mind.

=

The others headed to the classroom one by one as they finished their lunch. Though Saihara was the last to finish his food, he was surprised to see that everyone was in the classroom before him but Ouma. 

He opened his mouth to ask. “Where’s--”

“Sooooorry I’m late,” Ouma’s familiar drawl came from the door. Saihara turned and was surprised at what he saw.

_Ouma-kun wears glasses?_

_(It’s giving me a headache?)_

”I’m too good for a school where the only staff member is Momota-chan,” Ouma yawned.

“Hey,” Momota frowned.

Gonta clapped excitedly. “Ouma-kun, you’re actually wearing them! Gonta loves the rectangle frames, they suit you well!”

Ouma blinked. “Didn’t I tell you, Gonta dearest? I need them to read far away, and knowing Momota-chan, he’s gonna bully me into sitting in the back and squinting at the board.”

“There’s a seat up front for ya,” Momota twitched. “Get over here.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Ouma exclaimed. He winked. “But I think I’m gonna sit in the back. Thanks anyway!”

“Fucker,” Momota coughed.

_He looks cute with glasses,_ Saihara thought, bringing one hand up to his mouth to hide his slight blush and the other up to his head to fend off the headache. _Familiar and cute…_

“Shuichi,” Harukawa whispered. Saihara looked at her. 

“What is it?” he whispered back.

Harukawa hesitated. “Do you--”

“Alright, class is starting!” Momota tapped the piece of chalk on the board. Harukawa refrained from asking Saihara, waving her hand in a _‘we’ll talk later’_ gesture.

Momota cleared his throat. “I have math, English, and some science planned for today, since I’m not much of a literature or government person... ‘m gonna start by writing a math problem.”

As Momota wrote, Saihara’s thoughts drifted off. It was still weird to him that this ordinary classroom had been previously closed off, but as long as nothing dangerous was in it, he supposed it was alright. Aside from that, he was curious what Harukawa wanted to ask him...

“Here’s a complex problem just to gauge where you guys are in terms of calc,” Momota cleared his throat again, stepping back so everyone could see the problem he’d written on the board. I just made up random numbers off the top of my head, so this might not even be solvable, but--”

“Twenty-seven,” Ouma immediately said, deadpan.

Momota blinked. “Huh?” Everyone else turned to look at Ouma. 

Saihara furrowed his brows. _I barely even looked at that, how did he--_

Ouma yawned, sticking his feet up on top of the desk as he fiddled with his hair. “The answer’s twenty-seven,” he jerked his chin towards the board.

Momota tsked. “Don’t fucking lie at a time like this, c’mon. Do it properly.”

Ouma continued twirling his hair, now smirking. “Why don’tcha solve it yourself, Momota-chan?”

Momota scowled, then turned around. “I’m solving this to prove that you are a liar! _Not_ because you’re telling me to. Alrighty… Second fundamental theorem… Definite integral from here to here, means that times that minus this…”

After around ten more seconds, Momota froze. “T-Twenty-seven…”

Ouma snickered, covering up his giggles with his hand. 

Momota whirled around, pissed. “How the hell did you do that?!”

Ouma let out a sad sigh, tears springing forth from his eyes as he brought his legs back to the floor and looked at his lap in shame. He moved a sleeve underneath his glasses, wiping his eyes. “T-The truth is… I… I have a brain disease…”

Momota’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then his gaze softened. “A disease, huh…”

Ouma raised his brows, tears gone just like that. He bore a mischievous grin, sticking out his tongue as he tapped his head. “Yeah, a disease called I’m-Better-Than-You-itis. It makes me way smarter and way more cool than you, Momota-chan!”

“Wha-- Hey!” Momota yelled. “I actually felt bad for you for a sec there, take that shit back!”

“S-Stop arguing!” Gonta held out his hands, stepping between them both. “Everyone’s friends here, so please!” 

Momota sighed. “Whatever…” He went back to the front of the room and grabbed a pile of papers sitting on a desk, passing each paper to each person one by one. “Here. Since Ouma was the only one who could do that one super fast, work on these basic problems for a bit.”

Saihara took the paper and gave it a cursory glance. The problems were scrawled on them in pen. It wasn’t the best handwriting, but it was somewhat legible. Saihara blinked as he set the paper down, beginning to write his answers. _Well, it’s not particularly hard, I suppose… at least, this one’s a lot easier to solve._

Some of the others also found it easy. Saihara noticed Ouma, Kiibo, and Shirogane in particular writing with some ease. Others...

“What the fuck is this,” Harukawa snapped her pencil in half. 

...not so much.

Gonta was scratching his head; Yumeno had given up entirely, taking out a book and somehow making it levitate with her hands. Every now and then the page would turn on its own while Yumeno read. Saihara thought he could faintly make out some marionette strings, but he couldn’t be sure...

Momota held up his arms in frustration. “It’s just _calculus_, Harumaki! It’s not that hard, I’ve even written down some hints right here on the board--”

Ignoring Momota’s angsting, Ouma got out of his seat and skipped over to Harukawa, looking over her shoulder and clicking his tongue. He pointed at the numbers on her paper. “Three is the exponent up there, right? Bring that to the front of the x. Then go back to the exponent and subtract one from what it used to be.”

Harukawa quickly scrawled on the paper, then furrowed her brows. “So it’s 3x squared?”

Ouma beamed. “Yeah! There you go, simple derivatives.”

Momota seethed, tapping his pencil against the board. “Hey! I’m the only one who can teach here!” 

Ouma snickered, hand over his mouth. “Clearly not, since I can teach your _girlfriend_ math better than you can! Wow, you’re such a loser, Momota-chan!”

Momota and Harukawa turned bright red, the former shouting and stammering and the latter completely frozen in silence.

A moment later, Harukawa stood up, glaring at Ouma. “Sit the fuck down before I choke you.”

Ouma jutted his lip out, feigning hurt. “After all I did for you, Harumaki-chan?” he sniffled. “I can’t believe this! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Yumeno grumbled, letting her book fall to the desk along with the marionette strings. “Can you all shut up? I’m trying to do Heian literature here…”

Momota pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Hey!” he barked. “I gave y’all a worksheet to do! No reading literature during calculus!”

Yumeno bristled. “Whatever, just let me do what I want! I suck at math anyway, and you won’t even let me use my magic tricks in class if I’m not doing something academic!”

_She called them tricks? Of her own volition?_ Saihara blinked in surprise, turning to regard Yumeno for a moment. He smiled to himself, returning to the worksheet. _I suppose she’s trying to change for the better, too..._

“Bold words for someone who can’t even do modern language or literature right!” Momota countered, coughing a bit into his fist. “You mix up words all the time!”

“I don’t wanna hear that from someone who allergy grew an ugly goatee and dyed it purple just to get into a space program!” Yumeno slapped her pencil down.

“Wh-- how’d you know my hair’s--” Momota brought his hands down from his hair and placed them instead on his hips, an irritated grin on his face. “There, see?! Ya did it again! Ya said ‘allergy’ instead of ‘allegedly’--”

Yumeno and Momota began arguing in earnest. Ouma was obnoxiously crying; Harukawa was suppressing her urge to choke someone; Gonta, Shirogane, and Kiibo had abandoned calculus and were loudly discussing the biology of insects’ exoskeletons, comparing it to Kiibo’s robotic armor, and forming a plan for Shirogane to make an accurate bug cosplay costume; and Saihara was suffering. This school life plan was a complete and utter disaster in all sense of the phrase.

_I mean, I suck at math to begin with, so I don’t care, but really now..._

“ALRIGHT!” Momota finally roared. “ENOUGH!” The room quieted; Momota sighed, aggressively clearing his throat. “Change in topic! We’re doing English now.”

He wrote two sentences on the board.

“Who can read this?”

=

_English, huh. Ew. _

Sure, Ouma knew the basics, but advanced English wasn’t something he knew much at all, and he really didn’t want Momota “I can speak Russian, English, and Japanese fluently” Kaito to gloat in his face when it came to light that Ouma didn’t know a lot. Obviously he could read what was on the board-- any idiot would know how to read something like _‘My name is Kaito’_, or _‘I’m from Japan’_\-- but Ouma wasn’t in the mood to participate much anymore.

Luckily for him, Kiibo spoke up instead.

“Are you patronizing us?!” Kiibo yelped. “Obviously we’d know what that says!”

Momota raised a brow. “Okay, then say it.” He looked at the others aside from Ouma and Kiibo, who were relatively quiet, and then held up a hand. “Actually, wait. Everyone here say it. Consider this a penalty for getting distracted during our calc lesson!”

“My name is Kaito. I’m from Japan,” everyone repeated monotonously, in somewhat stilted, accented voices. 

“Kiibo was the only one who didn’t have much of an accent at all,” Momota commented. He sighed. “This is too easy.” He winced. “And… kinda creepy, hearing you all say you have my name…”

_Yeah, no shit. _Ouma took his glasses off, utterly bored. _I’m taking a nap..._

Momota erased those lines, then wrote up a frenzy on the board, taking at least two minutes. Ouma could hear the sound of the chalk against the chalkboard even as his head rested in his arms.

“Okay! Read this!” Momota beamed proudly.

“Why would you have that definition memorized verbatim?” Kiibo asked, sounding vaguely concerned. “And entirely in English? Do you need help, Momota-kun?”

_He went from zero to a hundred as usual, huh…_ Ouma lifted his head, blinking and putting on his glasses again to look at the board.

Then, he froze.

_Why can I read that?_

“Kaito, that’s too hard,” Saihara protested, though he looked somewhat amused. “You can’t go directly from elementary school sentences to some professional-level textbook excerpt like that…” Saihara grimaced. “I mean, I can read it, but I don’t know what any of it means.”

“Yeah,” Harukawa frowned. 

“Gonta can barely get kanji right, and now you’re asking him to read hard English,” Gonta sighed. “May we please talk about exoskeletons again? That was more fun…”

Shirogane bit her lip. “I-I’m the same. W-Well, um, the thing is-- as plain as I am, I can read it. I just don’t know what the harder words mean…”

Kiibo raised a brow. “Really?” He turned to the board. “Huh… I can read it and get it just fine. It says ‘REM sleep is ‘paradoxical’ because of its similarities to wakefulness. Although the body is--’”

_\--paralyzed, the brain acts somewhat awake, with cerebral neurons firing with the same overall intensity as in wakefulness, _Ouma thought to himself, confusion and panic rising. He didn’t betray it externally, but with each passing word, his headache worsened, and the scent of antiseptic grew stronger.

Kiibo continued. “Electroencephalography during REM deep sleep reveal fast, low amplitude, desynchronized neural oscillation, or brainwaves, that resemble the pattern seen during wakefulness--”

_\--which differ from the slow delta waves pattern of NREM deep sleep,_ Ouma mentally finished. _Why can I read that? I’ve never read anything like that before in my life. The most English text I’ve read was in basic kids books that Mom kept at the orphanage and from thrown out magazines and newspapers on the streets…_

The scent was overpowering. 

“I thought you said you hated science-y things, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara furrowed his brows. 

Kiibo winced, looking sheepish. “W-Well… I don’t like it, but I suppose I am actually good at it? My inner voice is getting loud, and for some reason I know how to do all of this, so…”

“More importantly,” Harukawa interrupted. “Kaito. Why would you write out some scientific paragraph like that?”

Momota shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I’unno. It was the same with calculus stuff… I already knew this stuff from before astronaut training, but there was part ‘a my brain that felt like it knew harder stuff… even though I got dizzy trying to remember how.”

_Dizziness, _Ouma felt suddenly more aware of the phrase._ Momota gets motion sickness with his memory headaches. He remembers learning calculus and applying it before his astronaut training, and he says he’s around fifteen right now. He doesn’t seem to be lying about that much…_

_And similarly, I got that antiseptic smell again when I tried remembering how I learned harder English. This whole time I thought I was fifteen, but if there’s a gap in my memory and an even bigger gap in the knowledge I actually have compared to what I thought I had--_

Realization struck Ouma like a lightning bolt.

_I’m older._

_Momota’s older too. All of us are older than we think we are._

Ouma got up immediately. “Aww, well this is stupid.” He stuck out his tongue obnoxiously. “I’m bored now. Seeya guys later! Have fun with your loser lessons!”

Ignoring some of the others’ startled reactions, Ouma left the room and then made a run for the basement-- specifically, for the library.

_I’m such a fucking idiot. How could I have forgotten something so basic--!_

He made it to the library and immediately went to the section marked for books on science-- namely, psychology-- and picked up one of the first books he saw, flipping until he saw the words he was looking for.

> **Semantic memory** is one of the two types of explicit memory. It is the memory of facts or events that is explicitly stored and retrieved by our brains. Semantic memory refers to general world knowledge that we have accumulated throughout our lives-- e.x. facts, ideas, meanings, and concepts.
> 
> It is distinct from **episodic memory**, which is our memory of experiences and specific events that have occurred during our lives. For instance, semantic memory might contain information about what a cat is, whereas episodic memory might contain a specific memory of petting a particular cat on a Tuesday morning. 

The antiseptic smell grew stronger as he read. He wrinkled his nose, flipping the pages to the section on amnesia.

_There are too many different types for me to narrow down what kind I and the others have, _Ouma furrowed his brows. _Whatever these missing memories are, and however they disappeared, and whoever made them disappear…_

_What does it all mean?_

_Who can I even trust with any of this information?_

“Ouma-kun, are you in here?!” Gonta’s panicked voice came through the door, alongside several quick-paced knocks. The door handle jiggled. “Please open the doors!”

Ouma nearly dropped the book. He hastily shoved it back into its place, then skipped over to the door. “Yeeees, Gonta darling?”

“O-Ouma-kun, you are safe, right?” Gonta sounded somewhat less urging, perhaps a bit more at ease. “Gonta’s concerned for you…”

Ouma’s gaze softened. _He’s probably worried thinking I could’ve died here like Rantaro, huh…_

Then, his face hardened again. _No. What am I thinking… he’s not my friend, he’s just acting like it. I can’t let my guard down._ Ouma swung open the door, grinning cheerfully. _Gotta keep up this facade. _“What’s up?”

“Wh--” Gonta looked over Ouma’s head, a bit relieved to see that nothing was out of the ordinary with the moving bookshelf. He tilted his head. “What were you doing in here, Ouma-kun? We ended the lesson early because you left!”

_He’s just pretending to be sweet, don’t let it get to you. Even if he reminds you of all the younger kids, you can’t let your fondness show. You can’t be his friend or anything similar. Don’t indulge yourself. He’s going to kill you someday, he’s just aiming for your weak points--_

“Hmmm?” Ouma made a shifty face, finger poised in front of his mouth. “Maybe I was planning a murder in here!”

“Don’t lie, please,” Gonta furrowed his brows. He smiled somewhat awkwardly. “Gonta knows… Gonta knows that everyone dying and all the memory headaches has been hard, so… If you ran out because you remembered something, Ouma-kun, Gonta just wanted to let you know that it’s okay to talk to him.”

_‘You must steel yourself, put up walls, and make sure nobody sees your deformities.’_

_You can’t possibly be getting fond of him, Kokichi. Gonta isn’t actually nice. He’s not Kouta or Kousuke or any of the kids. Okay?! You can’t reveal anything. Keep up the facade. Keep up the act. It’s the only way you can stay safe when it’s so obvious everyone here is aiming for your death--!_

“I was just using the books here to learn since I hated Momota-chan’s lessons,” Ouma said innocently. He grinned. “What, were you worried?”

Gonta sighed. “You should get along with all of our friends more…” he smiled. “Like how you and Gonta are right now, maybe.”

Ouma laughed. “Maybe I’ll try it in a million years.” 

“A million is better than never!” Gonta beamed happily, accepting the ludicrous answer. He turned to leave, waving goodbye. “Gonta will tell the others you are okay. Sorry for disturbing you, Ouma-kun!”

Ouma grinned and returned the wave while Gonta was still looking, then immediately let the grin fall off once Gonta was fully turned around, frowning at the bigger boy’s receding back.

_Iruma’s going to kill me, and the others are also just pretending to be all innocent with their school life stuff so that I’ll let my guard down. I need to act._

_Tonight. Tonight, I can go there one more time, and get a better understanding of the most dangerous threats to my safety… _

=

Nighttime. Ouma hid himself in a place where he wouldn’t be seen, and in a place where he couldn’t make noise.

Saihara was exercising alone some distance away. _Meaning that Harukawa finished early and Momota’s still using sorry excuses to skimp on it, even when he wasn’t as enthused with people skipping class… What a shmuck._

Anyway. Saihara’s tenacity must’ve meant that he was building up strength to fight or incapacitate someone someday. Ouma had to keep his guard on. Iruma had also come by around dinnertime to take a bunch of things from her lab to the computer room, which was just as dangerous.

Ouma went through a mental list of the scenarios he’d already seen. _Amami, Harukawa, Kiibo._ Of those, the first two were utterly unhelpful and the last one didn’t even open up a proper scenario; he just got an error message and a notification telling him that it would count as a used up slot even if there wasn’t a scenario behind it. _Of the four given ones, I only have one slot left…_

_...Which person should I investigate?_

Momota would be gross, so no. Ditto especially with Yumeno and Shirogane. If he had to play out some romantic sob-story schtick with a _girl _again, he’d puke. Gonta was considerable, but Ouma had figured out his true motives, so there wasn’t much point. Naturally, everyone was suspicious, but they weren’t the most dangerous at the moment.

Iruma was also a no-go. He wouldn’t be able to change her mind, not with how single-mindedly she was working on that computer program. She was definitely working hard on plotting Ouma’s death. There was no way she’d let up on her chance to get out, and therefore no point in figuring her out anymore.

Saihara… was the closest contender for a mastermind that Ouma had. Even if he was relatively kind, or if he gave Ouma headaches, or if Ouma had somehow formed a crush on him… He had to be investigated. His motives, his mind-- all of it.

_I love Saihara, but I don’t trust him. If I want to get a sense of what he really thinks without him knowing, I only have one option._

Once he was sure the coast was clear and nobody else was out in the courtyard at nighttime, Ouma walked up to the front door of the Love Hotel, looking straight at the selection screen in front of him.

WELCOME, [[KOKICHI OUMA]].

PICK A LOVER.

Ouma clicked on Saihara’s face and waited for the door to buffer. 

=

*

=

The next morning, Saihara woke up feeling stunningly happy and refreshed.

“Weird,” he said to himself, actually _smiling_ as he stretched. His chest felt warm; he felt pleased. Without any prompting, Saihara put on his watch and got out of bed to go brush his teeth. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before…”

A quick glance at the time told him that he’d actually woken up before the Monokubs’ announcements. _Damn… I must’ve gotten some really good sleep after training last night._

Saihara felt completely at ease-- languid, almost. Like everything was wonderful and alright. Iruma had said something similar in the cafeteria yesterday-- what was it? ‘Live and let the languid world live’?

_It’s fitting, _Saihara thought, humming contentedly even as he changed his clothes, ready to go to the cafeteria to greet his friends and eat a satisfying breakfast. 

_It feels like nothing else can possibly go wrong._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of you, throttling me by the neck: WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LOVE HOTEL?!?!?!  
me, laughing: hahaha.... haha... ha :')
> 
> As for some of the rest of the interesting things this chapter... I like to call this method of writing the Kohei Horikoshi approach, in which I dangle increasingly obvious reveals/plot threads in front of everyone while pointedly not saying anything explicit about the truth.
> 
> The difficult section on REM sleep was directly from Wikipedia, and the section on semantic and episodic memory were paraphrased from Wikipedia, with me rephrasing here and there using my own psychology knowledge for ease of reading.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories, chitchatting, or just getting live notifications on when the fic updates, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	28. 4-2. Maintenance - Murder? - Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harukawa remembers a dead friend and vows to help a living one.
> 
> Iruma dreams of a childhood friend and continues her plan to kill a more recent one.
> 
> Saihara doesn't connect the dots, and then he does (or does he?).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of headcanons here. And stuff that will probably make all of you scream at me.
> 
> I'm honestly not pleased with how this one came out, but it's already late and I don't want to procrastinate any longer than I already have. And also I'm super tired. Like... really tired. Ahaha... ;;; 
> 
> Let's go!

“Huh? Where’s everyone else?” Saihara wandered into the cafeteria and was surprised to find that it was empty save for Gonta.

“They all went to do their own things…” Gonta blinked at Saihara, then beamed. “Saihara-kun, you’re up super early!”

“Yeah…” Saihara couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed that even when he woke up early, he couldn’t catch everyone in the cafeteria at the same time.

“Personally, Gonta is looking for Ouma-kun,” Gonta sighed. “Let Gonta know if you see him!”

Saihara nodded. “Sure…”

Gonta must have noticed Saihara’s mood, because he attempted to cheer him up. “If it makes you feel better, Gonta hasn’t seen Yumeno-san yet. She’s probably still asleep.”

_Y’know what, that’s good enough for me._ Saihara smiled. “Thanks, Gonta-kun.”

Saihara left the cafeteria, wandering around. _There’s nothing in particular I’d like to do… I’ll see if anyone else would like to kill time. Like Kaito or Maki… Where are they, anyway?_

When he finally took a proper look at his surroundings, he realized he was in the courtyard, and Ouma was several feet away. 

_Ah--_

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara blinked. This was unexpected. “Gonta-kun’s looking for you, you know.”

“Hmm?” Ouma pouted, crocodile tears welling in his eyes. “How dare you talk to me about another man! I thought I was the only one for you!”

_What ridiculous thing is he talking about now…_

“I’m only telling you what he told me in the cafeteria just now,” Saihara continued. “But if you just don’t want to see him, I’ll drop it.”

=

_Oh my god why is he talking to me._

Ouma kept up his facade, naturally, but he couldn’t help but wonder. 

_Does he know I went into his fantasy? He does, right? He couldn’t just coincidentally bump into me like that, not this early in the morning. How did he realize it was me?_

“Thanks, Saihara-chan!” he grinned, shoving away the panic.

_If he remembers what happened in there, I might die._

“I have an idea for a game I wanna play with you!” Ouma’s eyes sparkled.

_Forget it. You can’t get all embarrassed about this when he could be the mastermind. What’s done is done..._

=

“A game?” Saihara asked, furrowing his brows.

Ouma nodded eagerly. “I like to call it ‘Burning Apology’! It goes like this: You beg me not to kill you while kneeling on a burning hot metal plate! I stand there and watch! If you reeeeally wanna live, then I know you can do it!”

“Huh?!” Saihara blanched. “I can’t do that, I’d die! And that doesn’t sound like a ‘game’...”

“Aw.” Ouma made a sad face, eyes watering. “So you figured it out…”

“Of course I figured that out!” Saihara protested. _How many of his lies are just for his own entertainment like this…?_

“Theeeeen how about Steel Beam Walk?” Ouma pondered.

_That sounds a lot like a JoJo title, _Saihara thought. He shook his head._ I sound like Shirogane-san…_

“No?” Ouma pouted.

Saihara waved his hands in front of himself. “N-No, I was thinking of something else…” he sighed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Perfect!” Ouma giggled. “You walk across on a thin steel beam placed between two buildings and make it to the end without falling! Then you win! Oh, and there’s also electricity involved!”

Saihara raised a brow. “And _naturally_ you’ll be crossing too, won’t you?” he asked drily.

Ouma giggled again. “Nishishi… Of course I’m gonna cross it! I’m pretty confident.”

Saihara prepared himself. _He’s gonna say it was a lie._

“But that’s a lie!” Ouma grinned. “So no, I won’t!”

_He’s putting a lot of effort into messing with me, but… it’s kind of fun, trying to predict when he’s lying and when he isn’t._

Ouma sighed. “I really wanted a game of life or death… since I’m the supreme leader of evil…”

_You can be rude and childish, but I doubt acting like a brat equates to evil. _Saihara sighed. “If you can come up with a game where neither of us have to give up our lives, I’d be willing to play.”

“Huh?” Ouma blinked. Then, his lips curled up in a grin, as if he’d succeeded. Saihara subconsciously took a step back.

“Isn’t that risk the most thrilling, fun part of the game though?” Ouma posited. “The idea that someone has to sacrifice themselves for the other to go on...”

“And having me get electrocuted in some balancing circus act exhibits that _how?”_ Saihara demanded. Ouma actually burst out laughing.

“Okay,” he giggled. “Then let’s play rock-paper-scissors, you boring Mary Sue! No death risks, just hand signals.” He held out an open palm and put a fist in it, looking at Saihara expectantly.

“Isn’t that just luck…?” Saihara said warily, mimicking the gesture nonetheless.

Ouma grinned. “That’s why it’s fun. Good luck surviving, Saihara-chan!”

Saihara sighed. “Fine…. Here we go. Rock, paper, scissors…”

Ouma mimed an explosion. 

“What’s that?” Saihara furrowed his brows.

Ouma bit his lip impishly. “Nuclear explosion. The earth is eradicated, including your piddly pair of scissors.”

“Ouma-kun...” Saihara put a palm against his forehead, fighting back a smile. _No way, don’t laugh. If you laugh he might pull that sort of stunt again, and the game will just be ridiculous…_

“No explosions allowed,” Saihara sighed, bringing his hands back into the base position. He paused. “And no guns either,” he added as an afterthought, recalling the ways that kids would often try to one-up each other. “Nothing that isn’t a simple rock, paper, or pair of scissors.”

Ouma tsked. “Fiiiiine. You’re so boring, my beloved Saihara-chan.”

They played. And tied.

And tied again.

And again.

And again.

And again…

And again……

And…. Again……………..

Each time, Ouma looked progressively more distressed, and Saihara looked progressively more confused. “What the hell…” Saihara was actually sweating. “O-One more time, hold on.”

“Aaaargh!” Ouma looked antsy and irritated. “This is the bajillionth time we’ve tied! It’s been hours! Saihara-chan, hurry up and end it!”

“How was I supposed to know we’d tie exactly five hundred and thirty-one times?!” Saihara retorted. Looking at Ouma for several hours straight had given him a headache alongside the game, and he was feeling rather irritable. “There’s not really anything _I_ can do about it. One more time!” 

“Nah, we’re done,” Ouma sighed, bringing up his hands to the back of his head. “We can just end it there.” He beamed. “Congratulations, my beloved Saihara-chan! You’re still alive.”

“Of course I am,” Saihara sighed, rubbing his temple. “Rock-paper-scissors wouldn’t kill anyone…”

“By the way…” Ouma gave him a cheshire grin, putting a finger in front of his mouth. “You do know there’s a way to throw the same thing on purpose in rock-paper-scissors, right?”

Saihara froze. “Huh?”

“Nishishi…” Ouma’s eyes sparkled. “Next time, I’ll actually beat you. Got it, Saihara-chan?”

_Was that what Ouma-kun was doing just now? Forcing the game to a tie every time? And I didn’t notice for over five hundred rounds?!_

“Wait a sec, Ouma-kun--” Saihara reached out to the other boy--

\--but he’d already left.

Saihara’s stomach grumbled._ He turned his wrist over, looking at his watch. It’s already time for lunch…_ He sighed. _If nothing else, Ouma-kun’s good at making time pass. I’ll let Gonta-kun know I saw him here._

=

After Saihara finished eating and let Gonta know where he saw Ouma, he was stuck in the same dilemma he’d had all morning._ What else can I do…_

Then, inspiration struck. The computer lab!

He hadn’t seen it the day before, when everything else had unlocked. Iruma had more or less monopolized the place to work on something or other. If he was lucky, Iruma would be okay with him coming in to take a look at the room. Saihara walked out of the cafeteria and up the stairs, making his way to the fourth floor.

The hallway alone gave him the creeps, but there was something especially sad knowing that the only two people who would’ve spent their time here were dead. A bittersweet look crossed Saihara’s face. He shuddered. _I can’t… I can’t regret what happened to them. Angie-san, Chabashira-san, and Shinguji-kun… I’m sad, but I have to move on._

He finally navigated the twists and turns of the floor and made it to the computer lab’s entrance. Strangely, in front of the door were--

“Monokubs?” Saihara asked aloud.

Monotaro and Monophanie both crossed their arms. “You can’t go in!” Monotaro exclaimed.

“Uh,” Saihara said eloquently, wondering if he even ought to bother with the bears. “Why…?”

Monophanie pouted. “Iruma told us to guard the place while she’s gone. She doesn’t want aaaanyone to see what she’s working on here.”

“Yeah!” Monotaro continued. “So if you have a complaint--”

“Then go visit her!” Monophanie exclaimed, interrupting whatever Monotaro was about to say. “She’s working in her Ultimate Lab. You can talk to her there.”

“Okay, then…” Saihara paused, then turned around and left.

=

“Hey,” Monotaro nudged Monophanie once Saihara was gone. “We weren’t s’posed to tell anyone where she was!”

Monophanie shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

She grinned.

“It’ll make things more interesting.”

=

At last, Saihara arrived at his destination. He was about to knock when he heard voices inside.

_Is Iruma-san busy?_ Saihara walked over to the side of the lab, peeking in through the outside window.

“Thank you for doing maintenance on me,” Kiibo sighed. “I know you’ve… been wanting to work on the computer more lately, but it made me happy…”

“‘m almosht dunn,” Iruma spoke through the screwdriver held between her teeth. She took it out, fixing in a few more screws. “Almost done. Hold on a sec… Okay! Finished. Now we can...”

Saihara continued watching from where he was. _I know they’re close, and I don’t want to interfere, but... if she’s almost done, then I’ll stay here and wait to ask about the computer lab… I can only anticipate that it’s not too intrusive of me, even if I’m eavesdropping._

There had been whispers here and there, hesitation, and shuffling. Saihara furrowed his brows. _I’m almost worried to check, but… what are they doing?_

He peered through the window.

It was only when Kiibo and Iruma's lips met in front of his eyes that Saihara became certain: he was _definitely_ intruding on an intimate moment.

As quickly as their lips brushed they yanked their heads back, both of them in pain.

"OW, the fuck-- _did you bump your head into mine?!"_ Iruma shrieked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing!" Kiibo groaned. He froze, moving his hand to his eyes. "Wait a minute... am I _crying?"_

"O-Oh," Iruma touched the tips of her fingers together sheepishly. "Y-You said you wanted to be able to cry and feel more human, so... I installed tear ducts and a crying function while we were going at it earlier… Since you already have taste buds ‘n other stuff, right…?"

Kiibo beamed at her in awe. "Thank you so much, Iruma-san," he smiled, tears still streaming down his metallic face. The dissonance was incredible.

Iruma flushed, blabbering. “O-Of course, fuckin’ dumbass! You should be groveling on your goddamn knees since someone as sexy and smart as me was able to give you--”

"But..." Kiibo’s smile fell. "Why do I feel so sad, then...? These should be tears of happiness, right? My inner voice feels really restless, too..."

Iruma's eyes cast downward. "I was also wondering..." she mumbled. "When I looked at you after our heads bumped, I felt really, really fucking nostalgic all of a sudden… and sad... I could've sworn you were..."

"Iruma-san?" Kiibo asked curiously.

Iruma shook her head. "Nothing. Thinkin' about it, it was kinda robophobic, so it's prolly not important."

Saihara turned away, furrowing his brows as their conversation fading out. Aside from Kiibo gaining strides into being more human, what could this mean? This whole time, _everyone_ had been getting these headaches, feeling like there was something they've been forgetting or something that they suddenly remembered-- and all without the help of the flashback lights, too...

"...Alright. I'll see you later then, Iruma-san," Kiibo said, voice swelled with affection and an infectious happiness. Saihara scrambled, pressing himself further up against the side wall of Iruma's lab while Kiibo came out through the front door. Luckily, he hadn't been noticed; Saihara sighed in relief.

He was about to leave when he heard Iruma's voice, tinged with guilt: _"Goodbye, Kiibo... I'm sorry."_

Along with those words came another flash of words in Saihara’s mind, all from more garbled voices:

_ **Iidabashi, do something** _

** _was using me all along _ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

Saihara bit his lip, doing his best to hide any noises of pain as he returned to his senses.

_What… what was that?_

_Goodbye to Kiibo? And who is Iidabashi? Why did that trigger my memories?_

Worry and confusion came over him. Saihara’s heart beat faster. Everything had seemed fine before, but this plus Iruma’s project in the computer room… Was she planning on setting up a murder? And if so, was her target Kiibo?

_No, _he thought, dismissing the idea entirely. _Iruma-san… Iruma-san and Kiibo-kun care for each other. They just kissed right in front of me. Their relationship is progressing behind the scenes, and they like each other too much for…_

The idea continued to wrack Saihara’s brain. Even if there was no fathomable way that could be the case… it also couldn’t be entirely eliminated as a possibility. It was a dismaying thought, but he had to adhere to the truth.

His feelings from the morning were temporary. No matter how refreshed he felt… To say that everything felt fine was ignoring what the others around him were doing. Saihara furrowed his brows. 

_I could be overthinking it… but at the same time, I don’t want to just wait until someone dies again before I finally figure something out. If I’m really the Ultimate Detective, I need to put my talent to use before that!_

_If I want to make sure nothing else bad happens, I’ll need to be proactive this time. Tonight… I’ll do it. _

=

“Seventy-eight… seventy-nine… eighty,” Saihara collapsed. Harukawa clapped.

It was nighttime, and the two had gone to their usual spot in the courtyard to train. Though Harukawa had long since finished her set of pushups, she lingered, watching Saihara finish his.

“Well done,” Harukawa commented as she applauded, though Saihara genuinely couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “I’m honestly didn’t believe you could get to eighty. The way you were before, it would’ve been a miracle for you to break past fifteen.”

“Thanks for staying, Maki.” Saihara wiped the sweat on his brow with his sleeve, surprised at his own improvement and genuinely grateful that Harukawa stayed by his side. 

But…

“At least _you’re _here,” Saihara said awkwardly, unable to resist the jab at Momota. “I’m… honestly pretty annoyed that Kaito won’t even show.”

Harukawa huffed. “Right? He won’t even give excuses anymore, he just tells us to go on without him and that he’ll catch up…” She shook her head. “Whatever. I have to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Saihara asked, stretching out his arms to cool down.

Harukawa stared at him. “You... don’t have a crush on him anymore, do you?”

Saihara blinked. “On…” Then, he realized what Harukawa meant. “On Kaito?”

The question was surprising, and definitely felt out of left field. But even though Saihara was startled by it…“I don’t,” he realized aloud. “I guess I don’t. Somehow, as time passed… I also moved on.”

Harukawa’s eyes widened slightly. Then, she shook her head, sighing. “Well, whatever. It doesn’t mean a lot… I just got curious.” 

Saying so, she left, walking back to the dorms.

=

_Shuichi’s change in feelings aside, Kaito’s also acting strange, _Harukawa thought, stalking back into her dorm room and preparing to sleep. She sighed._ I wish people came with instruction manuals or something… Like assembling a gun, but instead it’s assembling a basic understanding of emotional intelligence._

Harukawa’s chest clenched just thinking of the way Momota would act every time she expressed something beyond casual friendship. If even a hint of concern bled past her voice, he’d push her away with that same heroic grin on his face, insisting that he was the Luminary of the Stars and that he’d do everything by himself.

It reminded her too much of _her_…

_‘Maki-chan!’ the young girl’s grin was as infectious as her giggly laughter._ _‘Come on, you be the dad again! We can’t play house if there isn’t a second parent!’_

_‘Hana-chan,’_ _Harukawa whined, ‘Why can’t we both be moms?’ Even so, she was grinning back, a giggle threatening to burst through. _

_‘Because Hana’s better at making sweets than you!’_ _Hana burst out laughing._

Harukawa sighed again, shifting in her bed. She was long past the age where such memories made her cry, but it was still something she’d rather not think about…

_‘Hana-chan…’ Harukawa brushed her hand against Hana’s. ‘I don’t want you to go with those strange men.’_

_Hana shifted underneath their shared covers. ‘We can talk about it in the morning, Maki-chan.’_

_‘No--’ Harukawa winced, remembering to bring her volume down lest they get caught talking late at night again. ‘No. Hana-chan, you’re too nice… You’re too kind. Even if you’re talented, I don’t want them to do anything bad to you…’_

_‘You don’t want Hana to go,’ Hana sighed. ‘But if the strange men want Hana to go, then Hana will. Whatever they want Hana to do, Hana can handle it.’_

Hana always bore everything alone back then. She was such a sensitive girl, such a kind person, and yet, Harukawa couldn’t recall a single time she genuinely complained or asked for help with anything. She always smiled in front of everyone...

_‘You know that story some of the older girls talk about,’ Harukawa whispered._

_Hana’s eyes bulged. ‘Maki-chan, be quiet about that--’_

_‘That one girl who ran away nine years ago,’ Harukawa breathed. ‘The strange men took her, but then they came back and got angry, yelling and threatening because she ‘managed to escape’ or something. Even the oldest girls were super young when that happened, so they don’t remember much, but she’s like a legend…’_

_‘Maki-chan,’ Hana pinched her under the covers; Harukawa flinched. ‘If they catch you talking about that girl, we’ll both be punished. Besides, didn’t they finally find her and do something bad to her?’’_

_Harukawa huffed. ‘They just want us to believe that so none of us try escaping when it’s our turn.’‘_

_‘You shouldn’t go with them just to try and escape, Hana warned. She smiled, squeezing Harukawa’s hand reassuringly. ‘Hana will handle everything, Maki-chan. Just trust her.’_

Even back then, Harukawa didn’t really trust Hana. She loved her, certainly-- but she didn’t trust her. Harukawa sacrificed herself, ended up forced into assassin training, and Hana had died anyway.

Killed. “Adopted”, for the kids too young to be told the truth.

Hana had told them about the strange men who would inevitably come back again, and of Harukawa Maki, her friend who took her place. She even went as far as to betray her own warning, talking about the legendary girl who escaped the strange men, the one whose name was--

Strange. What… what was that girl’s name…? Harukawa clenched her teeth as the headache washed itself over her.

And then it faded away. 

It didn’t matter. Whatever her name was, Hana had died. And as soon as Harukawa had gotten the news, she’d given up.

Harukawa got up, deciding to go to the punching bag in the corner of her dorm room to ease her mind. She took out the MMA gear that she kept under her bed, preparing her hands to punch the bag into oblivion.

(The room was soundproof, after all. It’d be alright.)

_I want Kaito to talk to me._

Punch.

_I don’t want him to suffer whatever he’s hiding alone. _

Double punch, dodge, spin, kick. 

_But I can’t initiate, or make myself constantly try to be friends with someone. I can’t encourage people the way he does, or give pep talks the way Hana did…_

Several punches. Frustrated growl. Punch again.

_I don’t know how to do that. I’m just not that kind of person._

Harukawa stared at the punching bag, then stood up straight, holding it steady so it would stop swinging.

She could use the punching bag for physical training _and_ emotional training if she tried, right? Harukawa could just talk to it.

“What’s up,” she started, awkwardly putting a hand on her hip. “Mister… punching bag. Punching Bag-san. Listen… I… care about you.”

Harukawa grimaced, blushing at the stupidity of the scenario, then punched the bag again full force, bringing her gloved fists in front of her face to block the bag’s momentum post-swing. “Ugh--!”

_‘Love only makes sense in hindsight,’ Hana whispered, like it was a big secret. ‘That’s what one of the big girls said!’_

_Harukawa furrowed her brows. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’_

_Hana shrugged. ‘Hana doesn’t know. But it should make sense later on!’_

Harukawa let out a strangled cry as she gave the punching bag a final, devastating kick. The bag broke, spilling out sand on the floor. She froze in place, breathing heavy.

It did. It _did _make sense later on. Harukawa had only truly understood how much she loved Hana after she was no longer able to see her, and even more so after she’d received news that Hana had died.

Harukawa only watched as the sand spilled out, wiping off her sweat and taking off her gear. 

_I’ll help Kaito however I can, even if Shuichi doesn’t feel the same way anymore._

_Not just because I might love him… but because he’s my friend._

=

_I’m not sure what Maki wanted, but at the very least… I can go do what I wanted to._

Saihara made his way to the Love Hotel.

The sooner he acted, the better-- even if it was a hunch, he wanted to be sure of Iruma’s motive. Monokuma hadn’t given them any new motives to murder yet, so it must’ve purely been Iruma’s own wish to escape. And since that was the case, Saihara needed to know her biggest fantasy-- in other words, the thing she wanted most that was in the outside world.

The Love Hotel hadn’t really been a good idea before, but this time, Saihara was sure that he’d find some sort of answer.

He stood in front of the door.

WELCOME, [[SHUICHI SAIHARA]].

PICK A LOVER.

Saihara steeled himself, clicking on Iruma’s face and then waiting for the door to buffer. 

=

As he entered through the door, the room within morphed into a big, grassy hill. The open field was endless.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Iruma’s voice yelled from a distance. “Come _on,_ I’m over here!”

Saihara turned and was blinded.

Iruma was wearing a sundress that came down to her knees, and a sun hat over her head. Her muscles were just as visible and stunning as they were in the clothes Saihara usually saw her in, but the freckles dotting them were new.

“Are you spacing out again?!” Iruma yelled, grinning. “Iidabashi!”

Saihara whipped his head around. _What did she just--_

Iidabashi? The name he’d heard in the headache from earlier in the afternoon? He clenched his teeth. _I’m getting a headache within the scenario itself..._

_Even more weird, _he thought, furrowing his brows. _Kaede and Kaito didn’t have specific people they were thinking of in their scenarios… but I guess if it’s a fantasy, it makes sense that some people know who or what they want..._

“You’re gonna get _sunburned,_ you stupid bitch!” Iruma yelled again, waving around a bottle of sunscreen. “I _know_ you’re not used to Japanese air!”

Saihara obeyed, running over to where Iruma was. Iruma huffed. “Sheesh… Are you okay?” she raised a brow. “Spacin’ out like that, I swear…”

“I-It’s fine,” Saihara replied. _First, I need to figure out where we are and why we’re here._ “So… we’re here.”

Iruma sat down, toying with the grass by her side. “Yup. Anniversary of the day we first started writing to each other.”

_Writing?_

“While I was in the hospital, after waking up… I didn’t really have anyone my age but you,” Iruma admitted, tossing fistfuls of grass strands up in the air. They fluttered down, landing unceremoniously on her lap. She brushed them off. “Even if you were literally across the ocean, sending me letters because of a dumb pen pal project… I still appreciated havin’ a friend, y’know?”

_Across the ocean… _“America, huh,” Saihara guessed warily. _What other country would it be?_

Iruma scoffed. “You and your shittily written kanji. It was kinda comforting though, gotta admit. I didn’t know much kanji either…”

“Yeah…” Saihara trailed off._ It doesn’t sound like she wants me to do anything in particular yet. She’s just talking… But I feel like I should make at least some sort of move… _“So, you--”

“Just--” Iruma interrupted. “Shut up and let me finish, this is already hard enough.”

Saihara clamped his mouth shut.

“You in L.A. and me in my hospital bed in Tokyo,” Iruma looked up at the sky, pointing at the clouds. “Even if we were never physically together, you kept writing to me. And sending pictures of your dumbass projects, and crying at me whenever you had to change up your prosthetics to keep up with your growth spurts… You stayed by my side, no matter what.” Iruma sat up, looking at Saihara. “You’re the only one who saw past my act and knows the real me,” she grinned.

“Your… act?” Saihara blinked, still cautious. 

Iruma scoffed. “All that horny shit. I cuss and all, but I only talk about sex because I thought it’d make me seem grown up, y’know? Seven years did a number on me, and I felt like I had to catch up fast to understand… And I also did it because existence is so pointless that I figured… if I want people to look at me and what I’m doing before I die and become meaningless, I have to be extreme. I have to make the most of things. I can’t afford to die fast…” she grinned. “But you saw past that! People tend to leave me alone and call me weird, but you stayed even though I’m gross.”

“Everyone’s gross in their own ways,” Saihara mumbled.

Iruma cackled. “Exactly!” She beamed, crawling over so that they were mere inches apart. “So thank you! As a reward, you, my childhood friend, can do whatever you want to me!”

Saihara almost yelled, drawing his face back. “Huh?!” his voice cracked.

Iruma turned red. “W-What?” her voice turned more high pitched.

Saihara stammered, bringing his arm in front of his mouth, completely unsure of what to do. “Wh-- What do you mean, ‘do whatever you want to me’?!”

“J-Just--” Iruma let out a frustrated yell, covering her face in her hands. Then, she spoke up again. “I-If I didn't have you in my life...I'd prolly be in a gutter or something... or even dead.” She moved her hands away, looking to the side. “I genuinely might’ve killed myself after waking up if you hadn’t been there for me when I was at my lowest,” she said, brows knit. “You're the reason I can hold my head up high.”

Iruma sighed. “I wanted to thank you for that, so I thought of giving you an invention or something, but…” she huffed. “You’re always sayin’ stuff like ‘you should help other people with it!’ or ‘let everyone benefit from it!’, so… a-aren’t I the only thing I have left to even give you?” She peered down at him hesitantly.

Saihara gaped. _I… _

_How do I even respond to that? _

“I mean,” Iruma bit her lip, wiggling her brows, and moving her hands down her hips as if to change the subject. “C’mon, babe. You know my body’s slammin’.”

The delicacy of the moment broke, and Saihara let out an incredulous scoff. He sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. “Iruma-san--”

Iruma cackled, then wiped a tear, eyes twinkling with fondness. “Iidabashi… I think you are my life,” she admitted quietly, brushing her hand against his. She fidgeted. “At least, aside from all my inventions…”

_Holy shit._ Saihara felt like he was watching a romance novel unfold in front of him. So much so that he actively forgot that he was literally in it as a placeholder for this Iidabashi guy. “I-- I feel the same, Iruma-san.”

(It was the most neutral thing he could’ve said without making his own face turn bright red in embarrassment.)

He took her hand and squeezed. Iruma grinned, the brightness of her face contrasting the sun behind her as the scenario faded out in white.

“Thank you.”

=

And when Saihara woke up, mysteriously back in his dorm room, he stayed perfectly still, thinking about what he’d just seen.

Iidabashi. Someone who Saihara knew, because his name was in the word flashes from the memory headaches Saihara got. A childhood friend who was close to Iruma, enough so that she was now willing to murder so that she could escape the academy and go back to him in the outside world.

_Well, he might not actually even be Iruma-san’s direct motive._ But even so, Saihara had learned a decent amount.

_She felt trapped by her own coma in the past. Seven years… would definitely make me paranoid about losing time to death. And this killing game would absolutely make it worse. But… _Saihara furrowed his brows.

_The one thing that doesn’t make sense in this whole situation is Kiibo._

Saihara got up, deciding to leave his dorm room and take a walk so he could think more clearly. 

“She’s still in that computer lab,” Kiibo huffed. “I just wish she’d tell me…”

“T-That’s good and all, but I’d really like to sleep,” Shirogane shuffled awkwardly. “So if you’d, um… move to the side…”

“You two are still awake?” Saihara asked. Shirogane let out a small shriek of surprise; Kiibo stood unperturbed.

“Saihara-kun, can you believe it?” Kiibo furrowed his brows. “Iruma-san left the computer lab to do maintenance on me, then instantly went back to the computer lab!” He pouted. 

“I-I’m sure Iruma-san’s just-- just, um… Just… trying to surprise you! Or something…” Shirogane grimaced.

“Kiibo-kun,” Saihara began. “Good timing. I have something to ask you…” He looked tentatively at Shirogane. 

_Would it be okay to let her hear?_ Saihara wondered. _This was a private question, but… if this Iidabashi person is in my memories, there’s definitely a chance that they’re in Shirogane-san’s memories, too. If she also remembered something..._

“O-Oh!” Shirogane seemed to realize Saihara’s predicament. “I, um-- I can l-leave if you want--”

“Ah, it’s alright,” Saihara said. He turned back to Kiibo. “Kiibo-kun…” he furrowed his brows. 

_This Iidabashi person is American. _

_Kiibo-kun also seems to make lots of references to American people or customs that nobody understands… like Gwen Stefani, or Kobe-whatever, or being unsure of Japanese customs, or not using metric units…_

_...So what if--_

“Do you remember a person called Iidabashi?”

Hearing the name again, this time from his own mouth, gave Saihara a splitting headache:

** _...hear me?_ **

** _kill_ **

** _help us, save us--_ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

_Whose voice…?_ Saihara felt winded, but before he could ponder on it longer, Kiibo spoke.

“My inner voice is getting restless,” he winced, hand on his head. “I wonder if deep down, it remembers something…”

Saihara subconsciously put his hand over his mouth, thinking. “Kiibo-kun,” he finally said. “I thought you couldn’t hear any of the memories caused by the headaches?” _Normally he just has his inner voice doing something..._

Kiibo stared at him in confusion. “I don’t… I did hear something that time, along with the headache. But as soon as it went away, I stopped remembering it. I don’t recall it anymore…”

Saihara knit his brows. “That’s strange,” his mind raced as he muttered out loud. “You’re a robot, but you get headaches and have human-like memory loss. You can sweat and blush, but if you’re truly mechanical, then you shouldn’t be able to--”

“U-Um, Saihara-kun? I’d suggest you suspend your disbelief a bit more,” Shirogane piped up hesitantly. “After all, we have no clue how advanced the professor who created Kiibo-kun is… he has recording and printing functions, too. And even pain sensors that can be turned on or off at will… It sounds advanced.”

“I suppose that’s right,” Kiibo decided; Saihara wasn’t convinced. He could admit he probably _was_ pursuing this too aggressively. But there was a lingering feeling in the back of his mind telling him that he couldn’t ignore this, not when Kiibo and this mysterious Iidabashi person seemed to be so deeply intertwined with Iruma… and not when Kiibo’s existence as a robot was so strange and un-robotic.

_‘Save us’. _Who could’ve said that, and when?

Why did Kiibo hear it? Why did his inner voice react to it?

...What was everyone forgetting?

The barely out of reach familiarity of everything was beyond frustrating, but Kiibo and Shirogane had already left, and Saihara’s head hurt from thinking about it so much. Even _more_ concerning was Iruma’s plan to kill someone-- potentially Kiibo. Dizzily, Saihara realized he had a lot worrying him.

He yawned. _Sleep first. Even if it’s only for a few hours… _Thinking so, he made his way back to his room.

=

Just as quickly as his head hit the pillow, he was woken up by incessant knocking on his door, followed by a witch-like cackle. Saihara woke up with a startled yell, then groaned, turning on his side lamp to check his watch.

_Four in the morning...? _He scrubbed his eye in irritation. It hadn’t even felt like he’d been asleep for a few minutes, much less a few hours. _Who the hell--_

“WAKE THE FUCK UP, EVERYONE! I’VE FINALLY FUCKING DONE IT!”

_Goddamn it, Iruma-san._

Saihara opened his door, doing his best to hide his exhausted discontent. “What is it, Iruma-san...?”

Iruma smirked at him, looking startlingly refreshed and chipper for someone who’d been working so many hours all at once. “Come to the computer lab.”

Saihara blinked. “Okay? Why?”

But by the time he’d asked, Iruma had already moved onto the next door, grinning as she yelled again. 

“It’ll all make sense there!”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C-C-Cliffhanger...
> 
> I gave Harukawa's unnamed childhood friend from canon a name, lmao. May you rest in peace Hana-chan. Also, rest in peace Maki/Punching Bag ship. It was only for a few sentences, but the tension was rife.
> 
> Iruma's canon love hotel scenario is just a dumpster fire of rapey, abusive relationship nonsense with some barely salvageable moments where Iruma just wants to thank her childhood friend, so... here I am with this. All aboard the conspiracy theory express! choo chooooo~
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories, chitchatting, or just getting live notifications on when the fic updates, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	29. 4-3. A New Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruma sets her plan into motion.
> 
> Gonta finds something he wishes he didn't.
> 
> Ouma spirals further and further, until his mind screeches to a halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this chapter is late again... by pretty much a whole day. Honestly, I think it might be better to just expect late chapters for the unforeseeable future... My mental health has been a bit down lately, and as a result my writing's a lot slower, if I can even bring myself to write at all ;; I really don't know why, but it's happening, and all of a sudden i'm not really feeling confident with this chapter or this fic as a whole. 
> 
> But! I also don't want to put EKR on hiatus or anything like that. I want to and I will continue this to the end no matter what, so I'll keep going on the same schedule and hope that this is just a temporary rough patch. 
> 
> Like. Seriously hope. [crosses fingers]
> 
> On a happier note, merry Christmas (eve or day, likely the latter) and a belated happy Hannukah to those celebrating! Here's the chapter~

Saihara went to the computer lab, shuffling and yawning along with all the others. 

“Behold,” Iruma announced proudly as she opened the door to the computer lab, “a new universe.”

“Rise and shine, ursine!” Monotaro and Monophanie’s voices chimed in unison. Monokuma snickered behind them.

Iruma balked. “The fuck are you three doin’ in here?!” 

Ignoring the Monokubs and Monokuma, Saihara looked up at the grand computer screen, and the set of chairs and headsets around them. It was very detailed-- it looked like a virtual reality setup. _So this is what she meant by a new universe. A virtual world…_

“Upupu…” Monokuma grinned. “I decided to spice things up a bit with a certain someone’s help. The motive this time around is the secret of the outside world! And it’s hidden inside Iruma’s little virtual world here.”

Iruma’s mouth fell open in silent shock. “H-How’d you even put that in--”

“We shouldn’t need a motive to find that out,” Gonta said, conviction strong in his voice. He held out his fists, clenching his teeth. “Gonta will fight the exisals himself and be of use to everyone! Then we can escape and find the outside world on our own!”

Ouma scoffed. “That wouldn’t even work. Even if you did that, the killing game wouldn’t end…” He grinned, sinister. “But then again, it’d be pretty boring to let a fun killing game like this one end, wouldn’t it?” 

“Fucker… I’ll punch ya... in the face,” Momota growled, then coughed rather strongly. Harukawa held him back a bit, somewhat confused, yet glared at Ouma all the same. 

Saihara was still carefully taking in the setup in the room. Nine chairs, headsets, and many, many wires, all connected to a giant hivemind computer. There was a smaller computer also connected to it.

_If my hunch about Iruma-san setting up a murder is true, then could she be planning on murdering someone here? As the inventor, she could create whatever rules she wanted…_

“W-We might have to go in,” Shirogane gulped. “I-If Monokuma is, um, I mean--” she bit her lip. “If he is telling the truth about the motive…”

“Monokuma hasn’t outright lied to us about anything yet,” Yumeno raised a brow. “Though he has been a bitch.”

“Why, thank you!” Monokuma cooed. “Upupu… I pride myself on being the best bitch out there!”

“You can’t steal Grandma’s lines like that, Daddy!” Monophanie giggled. 

Monotaro kicked Kiibo. “Grandpa! Are you gonna take your son trash-talkin’ his ma like that?”

“This bear is not my son, nor Iruma-san’s son,” Kiibo explained with a pained smile. “And you are not my grandchildren, nor hers. I am not a father nor a grandfather, and Iruma-san is not a mother nor a grandmother, and if you call either of us by those epithets again, I will be very upset.”

“Loser-faced old man!” Monophanie sneered. 

“Loser-faced old man!” Monotaro repeated back with equal vigor.

“Loser-faced old man!” Monokuma giggled, paw over his mouth. 

Kiibo’s eye twitched. He looked at Iruma like he was asking permission to do something; Saihara couldn’t tell. But the way Iruma held him back ever so slightly, with an expression on her face like she was doing everyone a favor and saving them all from certain apocalyptic doom… it didn’t seem like a good sign to him.

_There’s no way she’s trying to kill Kiibo-kun,_ Saihara decided. _Unless she’s an amazing actor, but she doesn’t seem the type…_

_...so why did she say ‘goodbye’ back then? _

=

After heroically yet silently stopping Kiibo from nuking the bears (and technically the rest of them) with his laserbeam cannons, Iruma decided to ignore whatever fuckery was happening around her and just start _explaining shit._

She stepped up and went over the main rules of the virtual world to everyone. Logging in, logging out, everyone’s avatars being the same height and having the same strength, the fact that the virtual world would be an escape from the killing game and the academy… yada, yada, yada.

(She pointedly left out all the stuff about being classified as an object versus as a person, the world looping, and the cell phone she planned on using for the murder.)

Nobody seemed to suspect her-- a good sign. 

_Well, Saihara’s squinting his eyes like he’s suspicious, but as the mastermind, he’s prolly gettin’ a kick out of acting confused. Fuckin’ virgin asshole bitch._

Correction! Nobody aside from the mastermind appeared to suspect her. Being normal with Kiibo sent a pang of pain through Iruma’s heart and head, but it also served to make everyone believe that everything was normal. 

This was good-- as long as Ouma in particular wasn’t aware anything was wrong, this plan could go smoothly. She’d already given him all his commissions-- the electrobombs, electrohammers, the Bugvac, and that last-minute remote control he asked for that would manipulate electronics… Though Iruma had intentionally made sure that none of those devices would be transferrable to the virtual world, just in case Ouma was sharp enough to take it in with him and try to protect himself last-minute.

“Like Shirogane said,” Iruma reasoned aloud, “now that Monobitch has put somethin’ in here… we might as well check it out.”

Everyone looked at each other warily. It’d make more sense to not go in, but if Iruma was right about Saihara, then he’d goad them all to go in ‘just to investigate’, or something…

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Saihara shifted, “but…”

“We should toootally check it out!” Ouma grinned. “After all, I wanna see this so-called secret!”

Well, that was surprising. Iruma tried to keep her face neutral at first. _Even if Shithara acts like a nice guy, at least Ouma’s there to shake everyone around..._

“If you wanna go into the virtual world, just take a seat!” Iruma grinned, gesturing at the chairs set up in a half circle around the computer. “I’ll explain how to set up the wires ‘n shit once you all sit down.”

Whether everyone sat down in the chairs for the sake of humoring her or out of genuine curiosity and will to escape the game, Iruma didn’t know. But it would help her plan for nobody to decline venturing into her digital world while the murder took place.

“Be sure to plug in the wires to the right places!” Iruma yelled, typing away on the smaller computer to make sure everyone’s avatars were in order. _Ouma’s is still set to freeze if I touch him… good. _“The wire on the left goes in the connector on top, and the wire on the right goes in the connector on the bottom! All on the back of the helmet!”

_Everything’s going according to plan._

=

“That’s so vague,” Yumeno grumbled. “And confusing…”

“Um, Iruma-san,” Kiibo raised his hand. “What would happen if you switched up the wires…?”

Iruma shrugged, leaving the computer and approaching the one empty seat left behind for herself. “Fuck if I know. Probably some sleep-related consequences? Buncha physics and psychology mumbo-jumbo you fleas wouldn’t get.”

It gave Saihara a headache again._ Psychology, huh? Clearly that topic connects us all somehow, but it’s still unclear exactly what it means…_

“Iruma, are you gonna log in?” Harukawa asked, brow raised.

“Y-Yeah, just a sec,” Iruma faltered. She sighed. “I’ll… I’ll have to stay out here to make sure the rest of y’all are properly set up, so I’ll meet up with you in there soon.”

As Saihara put on his helmet and set up the wires, he could faintly hear Yumeno awkwardly explaining to Gonta the difference between left and right. 

=

Everyone had logged in. Perfect.

Iruma unwrapped the plastic cover off the bottle of poison that she’d gotten from Saihara’s lab, placing the wrapper in Momota’s chair. She then put the actual bottle of poison in Ouma’s chair. She silently thanked the stars above that she was genius enough to create her own lockpicking device unbeknownst to anyone else-- otherwise, she’d never be able to use the poison to frame Momota for what would eventually be Ouma’s murder.

_Momota just threatened to punch the guy, and he’s never really liked him much to begin with, so it’d make sense,_ Iruma reasoned. _Plus, he’s always coughin’, so I could say that he took a bottle to make it look like he was looking for medicine when he just wanted a way to murder so he could leave here and get to a fuckin’ doctor…_

Whatever her argument would be, Iruma could think more about it after she committed the murder. 

_The cellphone should appear in my pocket once I enter this place, and the hammer should also be in its proper place… And I’ll tell Ouma to meet me on the roof once I’m in the virtual world. Alright. _

Iruma steeled herself.

_Time to do this._

=

Saihara wasn’t the first nor the last one to log into the virtual world. 

His avatar was actually pretty cute-- and so was everyone else’s, though not all of them appeared to be happy about it. 

“I don’t do cute,” Harukawa wrinkled her nose, pouting.

“I’m so _plain,_” Shirogane wailed, a cartoonishly depressed aura surrounding her avatar’s head. “E-Even in chibi form…”

“Don’t worry about that, Shirogane-san!” Gonta tried to encourage her.

“Huh…” Momota’s voice was clear and strong. He smiled, and a little music note of happiness popped up above his head. “I actually kinda like this. If I’m in here, then all ‘a that’s gone…”

“All of what?” Harukawa immediately asked, curious.

“N-Nothing,” Momota quickly rescinded his statement, sheepish. “Just thinkin’ ta myself…” 

When Ouma logged in, he looked around, ooh-ed and aah-ed a bit, then walked right up to Kiibo’s avatar and slapped it.

“Don’t _hit_ me, you robophobe!” Kiibo’s adorable avatar looked incensed. Ouma snickered, then smacked him again.

“What part of _‘don’t hit me’_ is escaping your consciousness?!” Kiibo hissed, face bright red in irritation. A little angry icon, symbolizing a popping vein, appeared near his avatar’s head.

_This means that our pain sensors are still connected to our consciousness, even if we’re in these avatars,_ Saihara thought, feeling rather bad for Kiibo in the moment. _Which means that people can still die in here if they experience enough pain or pressure… For all Iruma-san’s talk of escaping the killing game, it’s awfully convenient that death is still possible here. _

_I was right after all. She might be planning something bad..._

At last, Iruma entered the virtual world; all of them settled. 

“So, quick explanation,” Iruma cleared her throat. She pointed to the old-school black phone sitting on the table near them. “If any of you wanna leave this place and go back to the academy, all you gotta do is pick up the phone and say your own name.” She demonstrated.

And then a minute or so later, she came back. “See?” 

“This place…” Yumeno casually looked around at all the engineering, the graphics, and designs around the manor. Saihara found himself observing too; it truly was a marvel of creation. “The way you created this place is like an entirely different kind of magic, huh…”

Iruma blinked, then smiled. “Yeah… I guess it is.” 

Saihara decided he wasn’t keen on staying in the same place. There was a motive to be found and a potential murder that might eventually happen; he’d rather do what they had to do and leave this place as quickly as possible. There wasn’t much else in this little area, so he’d look around the rest of the manor. Without a word, he left the room.

“H-Hey, Shuichi!”

_Kaito’s voice. He and the others will catch up, so there’s no problem…_ Saihara focused his eyes on the two maps in the main room.

“Shuichi, you can’t just leave like that!” Momota looked a little annoyed. “Sidekicks shouldn’t go off on their own!”

“Ah, sorry…” Saihara wasn’t actually all that sorry, but he figured he might as well say it. “I was just checking these maps to see what the rest of the virtual world looked like.”

“Huh?” Momota looked at the maps too; the others also crowded around to get a look at it. “Oh…”

One map showed just the manor; the other map showed the whole virtual world. It wasn’t all that hard to understand, though the squiggly line in the middle was rather confusing...

“There isn’t too much around here, so it shouldn’t take long to investigate,” Iruma mused.

Saihara narrowed his gaze._ She’s been taking charge a lot more recently… Even if she created this place, it feels odd._

“We can split up into groups,” he finally suggested. “One for the chapel on the other side of the river, and one for the manor here.”

“Ooooh!” Ouma looked excited. “As expected of my beloved Saihara-chan! Taking charge so boldly, nishishi~”

“How should we split up, Saihara-kun?” Gonta asked. “Gonta can use his strength to be useful!” 

“Don’t you remember?” Kiibo chided. “Everyone’s avatars has the exact same level of strength.”

Gonta’s avatar wilted. “Oh…”

“How about this,” Saihara decided. “Gonta-kun, Ouma-kun, myself, and Shirogane-san for the manor. And in the chapel, Yumeno-san, Iruma-san, Kiibo-kun, Kaito, and Maki.”

“Uh--” Iruma swiftly interrupted. Her avatar was sweating somewhat. “The chapel is a lot smaller, so maybe Momota or someone should stick to the manor. The manor needs more people to investigate… maybe on the upper floors. The roof’s accessible too, y’know. M-Maybe the motive was dropped there...”

“Huh,” Momota commented. He grinned. “Sure, no prob! I can go on the upper floors. More sweet fresh air for me.”

“You won’t feel temperature, so it should be fine,” Iruma sniffed. “Let’s go, then! All of us to the bridge that leads to the chapel side!”

“All of us?” Yumeno wrinkled her nose. “Nyeh…”

“You’re going to the chapel to begin with, Yumeno-san…” Shirogane bit her lip.

“We have time, so why not,” Saihara sighed, still overwhelmed by the idea that Iruma might be planning something. _Even though I won’t keep an eye on her, as long as Maki is in the same area, she shouldn’t be able to kill anyone. I trust Maki... _

Lost in his thoughts, he walked out.

=

_“Shuichi!”_ Momota protested again, running out after Saihara. The others followed behind him.

Iruma trailed at the very end, along with Ouma and Gonta. “Psst, Ouma.”

The supreme leader turned around. “Hm?”

_I can’t touch him, or else his avatar will freeze… _“Can you, um... meet me on the roof later?” Iruma asked, doing her best to sound natural. “After we spend some time investigating, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Ouma blinked at her, then smiled. “Sure.”

=

“There’s no bridge?” Saihara blinked.

“Ah, shit, I knew I was forgettin’ something!” Iruma snapped her fingers, tsking. They’d all reached the river, the point where there were squiggly lines on the maps in the manor. “Guess we’ll have to use this handy, convenient sign as a board.”

“It looks really weak,” Yumeno said doubtfully, tugging on her hat. 

Iruma waved away her concerns. “All physical objects here are unbreakable. Made it easier to code.”

“W-What if it’s something that you should break?” Shirogane asked. “Like a peanut?”

“The only nuts I programmed here are the ones that already existed on some ‘a you outside this virtual world,” Iruma sneered. “But something like toilet paper’s more unfortunate. You’re better off just loggin’ off and takin’ a dump in the real world instead of doin’ it here.”

_That’s so gross…_ Saihara sighed. 

Ouma elbowed him. “Why so gloomy, Saihara-chan?”

“I’m not gloomy,” Saihara said gloomily.

“You have an aura of depression over your face,” Ouma commented, amused.

_Your face might end up with a depression in it if you keep teasing me, _Saihara didn’t say. He just sighed again, ignoring the other boy.

“Suit yourself, emo boy,” Ouma whistled nonchalantly, putting his hands up behind his head. He tsked. “You should know that depression isn’t cute these days!”

Saihara wrinkled his nose, forcing back a sarcastic smile. _Neither are cutesy pickpockets who may or may not have a personality disorder or five, but here we are. Why I still enjoy our conversations is a mystery…_

Saihara was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Iruma picking up the nearby sign and setting it down as a bridge between both areas. 

“Iruma-san, Kiibo-kun, Yumeno-san, and Maki,” Saihara ticked off the names on his fingers as he said them, already back in alert mode. “You four go investigate the chapel.”

“No need to say that out again,” Momota muttered, tapping his foot somewhat impatiently. He gave a thumbs up, grinning as he spoke louder: “I’m the Luminary here, so don’t worry about givin’ orders, Shuichi. I got this!”

Those who were assigned to the chapel all crossed, with Iruma being the last of them. Then, Iruma did the unthinkable-- she kicked the sign, causing it to fall in the water and go down the stream. 

“Wha--” Saihara’s eyes widened. 

“Oh noooo!” Iruma cried out in a completely stilted, monotonous voice. “The sign fell! Whatever… will happen now…?”

_“Fell?!_ Momota yelled incredulously, alarmed. “What the shit, ya freakin’ kicked it on purpose!” 

“Kaito’s right,” Harukawa narrowed her gaze. “What on earth are you doing?”

“How are we supposed to log out now?!” Kiibo asked frantically. “Iruma-san, the only phone is in the mansion!”

“Unless you put one in the chapel too?” Yumeno grimaced.

“Uuhhh,” Iruma poked her finger tips together, shame-faced. “N-No…”

_Is she going to use that as a trap?_ Saihara’s mind raced._ Intentionally keeping everyone on that side so she can make it impossible for me or anyone else on this half of the map to investigate, or for anyone on that side to log out, in case she succeeds in killing--_

_No,_ he thought again, taking in a deep breath. _Calm down. I trust Maki. As long as she’s on that side, a murder can’t possibly happen…_

“There’s not a lot we can do,” Ouma twirled his hair, twisting his mouth. “So why don’t we all just abandon these poor losers and investigate what we can on this side?”

“T-That’s so cruel!” Shirogane protested. “What if they get stranded?”

“It’s mean, but it’s all we can do,” Gonta sighed. “Maybe we all should separate and then come back to find a solution, like Ouma-kun says.”

“We can kill time by investigating,” Harukawa agreed on the other side, cupping her hands around her mouth so the others could hear her. “We’ll meet up here when we’re done!”

Grumbling yet accepting of their plight, the chapel team left.

Saihara turned around, deciding to make the most of the time they had. “Kaito, you can take the roof,” he said. “Ouma-kun and Gonta-kun, take the salon? Shirogane-san and I can handle the rest.”

“Again,” Momota grumbled, walking back, “don’t order us around!”

“I-It’s okay,” Shirogane trembled. “I trust Saihara-kun to know what’s right to do.”

“He’s our leader, after all!” Ouma giggled.

“I… wouldn’t call myself that…” Saihara grimaced, feeling awkward on top of already feeling tense. He sighed. “Let’s go investigate.”

=

_Ooh, praising Saihara’s leadership pissed Momota off a lot more than I thought it would. This’ll be fun…_

_But that’s not the most important thing here. That idiot Iruma probably thinks I don’t suspect a thing. She invited me to the roof after she’d been assigned the chapel, then destroyed the only bridge… It’s obvious she has some secret back route she can take to get to the manor’s side. That’s what she gets for being such a simpleton_…

Of course, Ouma realized that Iruma’s confusion and shock at Monokuma having put the motive in her virtual world was real, but he still wanted to find it before anyone else did. “Gonta,” he tugged at the taller boy’s sleeve. “We’re gonna ditch for a short while. Come with me.”

“What?” Gonta whispered. “O-Ouma-kun, Saihara-kun told us to investigate the salon!”

“Aww, come on! There’s a whole snowy forest out there behind the manor and Saihara-chan didn’t assign anyone to that!” Ouma pouted, feigning sadness. “We can check the salon later. Pleeeease?”

Gonta hesitated.

_Any time now…_

Then, he nodded. “Okay… but only for a short while.” Gonta huffed. “We’ll go back to the manor if we don’t find anything!”

Ouma beamed. 

=

So they snuck around the manor and went to the forest.

_If I’m right, Monokuma would’ve put it somewhere here… Though even I don’t exactly know what it’s supposed to look like, _Ouma thought, trying and failing to kick the digital snow. _Shit, I should’ve asked…_

“Ah! Is this it?”

He looked up and saw Gonta holding in his hands what looked an awful lot like the handheld consoles for the motive videos. Ouma narrowed his eyes. _Another motive video…?_

“It’s not a flashback light,” Gonta mused, turning it over in his hands. “So it should be safe, right?”

_No, you moron. _Ouma stayed still._ Unless that’s just a ploy to force me to look at whatever’s in it…_

“Gonta isn’t good with technology, but…” Gonta furrowed his brows. “Ever since he got the motive video, he felt like he sort of remembers people turning it on like this…” Gonta pressed the button, somehow able to turn on the console.

Ouma’s wariness rose. _So did he actually see Shirogane’s motive video? That’s the one Gonta had, but he never talked about it… Was that because he’s a so-called gentleman, or because he actually didn’t see it?_

“It worked!” Gonta exclaimed, seeming genuinely surprised.

Ouma sauntered over to him, smiling the whole time. “Hmm? What is it?” Ouma paused in his steps as he saw the screen._ A videogame…?_

“It’s explaining how to play the game,” Gonta thought aloud. “Like this…?”

He was navigating through a building, playing through a pre-set ‘quest’. Gonta tilted the console and moved around, biting his lip. As Ouma watched him, the scent of antiseptic steadily creeping into his nostrils, Ouma suddenly realized what was so familiar about it.

_The floor plan of the building in the videogame is the exact same as the floor plan of the academy…_

A pop-up notification appeared: ‘NEW QUEST: COMPLETE UNDERGROUND TUNNEL ROUTE’.

“We don’t have a lot of time to do this,” Gonta made a concerned whining noise. “S-Should Gonta pause it…?”

“Whaaaat?!” Ouma gasped theatrically. “Nonono! No way! Keep going, we have to watch this!” _I need to use you as a guinea pig for a sec to see what the fuck’s going on._

“Okay…”

But Gonta wasn’t all that good at the game, and Ouma knew that the other boy was right when he said that they didn’t have a lot of time. “Here, lemme do it--” Ouma took the console and finished the route, reaching the end of the underground tunnel.

_This is the same as the Death Road underneath that one manhole. So when you actually clear it, you get to this door?_

Then, the videogame console flashed with light.

=

The headaches were excruciating as Gonta and Ouma watched the memories play out on the screen, unable to tear their gazes away. Strange meteors, news reports, a disease, funerals, the Ultimate Hunt, the world ending--

And behind that door lay only an apocalyptic wasteland.

The video ended, with an option to “play route again”. But Gonta could hardly see in front of his blurry, tear-filled vision, even when his eyes and Ouma’s were wide from what they’d just seen. 

“No…” Gonta whimpered, horrified. “T-That can’t… be…” He sucked in a breath.

Ouma was still quiet.

“Should we show it to the others?” Gonta asked hollowly, barely turning around to see Ouma’s face. “It… it gave us some memories back...”

“No…” Ouma replied, looking equally as sad as he did. “Not yet, at least.”

Gonta sniffled, trying to wipe his nose and eyes, but the tears only fell harder. “Right… everyone else is… better not seeing this. Something so horrible and sad… if the whole world is gone, then are we…” Gonta hiccuped. “The only ones left…?”

Ouma paused, quiet for a concerningly long time. Gonta knew the other boy was thoughtful, but he must’ve been scared by what he saw if he wasn’t replying to Gonta the way he usually did.

_The secret of the outside world is that there’s nothing there anymore, and that everyone is dead… What’s the point of Gonta using his strength to save everyone else if there isn’t even an outside world to return to? _

“We should work together to end everyone’s misery,” Ouma said coolly, hauntingly. His brows tugged together in weary, worn sympathy, and Gonta’s heart lurched at the sight.

_Of course we should… Ouma-kun is nice. Naturally he’d think of wanting to help everyone and sacrifice himself, even if he’s scared and sad about the world ending…_

“They should die ignorant to this,” Ouma suggested, purple eyes shining in what must’ve been a trick of the light. “They shouldn’t live to find out what we saw in this video.”

Gonta swallowed thickly. “You’re right. We…”

Ouma walked over to Gonta smoothly, soothingly wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “We’re the Killing Game Busters,” Ouma whispered. “We’ll make sure nobody else lives to see the truth of the outside world. And once they all die without knowing the truth, the killing game will end for good.”

It was a good idea. Ouma was always full of good ideas, always trying to help others and find out what was happening.

Ouma was smart. Ouma knew what he was doing…

“Gonta will help, then,” Gonta got up, voice thin from crying. His eyes leaked tears, but his face had hardened; he no longer cared to wipe them away. Ouma pressed his lips in a thin line, watching as Gonta ambled towards him.

“It’s the last thing Gonta can do now…”

=

The video itself horrified Ouma as well, but perhaps more horrifying was not knowing whether or not Gonta was manipulating him. 

Was that line about showing it to the others a ploy to get Ouma and everyone else to believe that escape was futile? Ouma had discussed putting the motive in the virtual world with Monokuma, but was Gonta or someone else-- possibly Saihara, with how leader-like he was acting all of a sudden, and the recent revelation that he could be the mastermind-- trying to manipulate him by switching things up from flashback lights to these oddly familiar videogame consoles?

And why_ were_ the consoles familiar? Why was the building they were navigating in the game the exact same as the Ultimate Academy here? Was there really an apocalyptic wasteland behind the door at the end of the underground tunnel? Was there even a door to begin with at the end of the Death Road here at the actual academy? What did it all mean, and what was going on?

There were too many questions, and not enough answers for Ouma’s mind to rest.

_Whether or not Gonta’s actually feeling as morose as he looks… I’ll have to manipulate him back, for my own survival. If he’s using this videogame thing to say that everyone should die, he could be lying to me. Lying because he’s trying to secretly kill me, just like Iruma…_

A brilliant idea lent itself to Ouma’s head.

_I can have him kill Iruma in my place, all while letting him keep that disgusting mentality that everyone should die instead… If I act like I believe it too, I’ll be the better liar. Gonta wouldn’t kill me if he really thought… _

Ouma opened his mouth and let honeyed, sweet words flow out from it and into Gonta’s saddened ears, feeding ideas and plans to him. Gonta got up, ready to help, completely void of any previous light in his eyes.

_Perfect… _Ouma tried to force himself to stay still, but his mouth twitched in a smile somewhat uncontrollably anyway. _It’ll all be perfect…_

_I’ll be alive, and this fun killing game can continue._

=

There was nothing of note in the chapel, but Iruma already knew that. The only exception was a toolbox that was missing a hammer, which Iruma had taken out while the others weren’t looking. 

It was about time for her to meet up with Ouma on the roof of the manor… 

Yumeno, Harukawa, and Kiibo hadn’t found much, but there were plenty of boxes with random junk in them that Iruma had put as a distraction. She’d be able to leave without much complication as long as they were still searching through them.

“Nothing in this box, either,” Harukawa tsked, more and more annoyed with every box. “Is this really all that’s in this chapel?”

Yumeno let out a frustrated yell, kicking the box closest to her. “Was there even a motive to begin with?! There’s nothing here!”

Kiibo sneezed. “This place is so_ dusty-- _Iruma-san, what even--”

But by then, Iruma had already snuck out of the chapel. 

She crossed the loop point, pleased that her programming worked. Momota was on the roof of the manor just as she’d planned.

Iruma took out her cell phone and held it up to her ear, staring at Momota as she whispered: “Momota Kaito.”

Momota let out a startled, confused yelp as he was forcibly logged out.

Iruma smiled, closing the cell phone and pocketing it. _Now, to get to the roof… _The smile fell. 

_I need to make up my mind before he actually gets there._

=

“Iruma-san crossed over from a weird place,” Gonta told Ouma as they made their way back from the forest to the manor. “Gonta saw it just now…”

“Describe it,” Ouma demanded. Gonta obeyed.

And that was when it clicked. A frightening grin crossed Ouma’s face.

_So that’s what’s going on… That’s her backseat plan. That’s how she’s gonna try to kill me. She made a few stupid mistakes here and there, but this really takes the cake…_

“I have a plan, Gonta,” Ouma whispered, gears in his mind turning. “Listen carefully. The most important thing here is that you get toilet paper from the bathroom, and stay hidden while Iruma and I talk on the roof. Got it?”

Gonta nodded.

Ouma thought for a moment. “I’ll twirl my hair as a signal to you. When you see me do that… Come out from where you’re hiding and strangle Iruma with the toilet paper.”

Gonta looked somewhat surprised. “Strangle… Iruma-san…? Kill her?”

Ouma nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Yes… but we said so earlier, remember? Everyone should die without knowing what we saw. Iruma’s just gonna be the first…”

Gonta nodded back. “Gonta understands…” He took in a deep breath. “Okay.”

=

Iruma was on the rooftop already, having avoided the other pair inside the manor. Gonta hid with the toilet paper already set up like a rope in his hands before she could see him, and Ouma made sure his footsteps were loud enough for Iruma to hear.

“You’re finally here,” Iruma scoffed. “Took ya long enough.” She turned around, hand in her pocket.

_This is it, _Ouma thought, the hands behind his head clenching his own hair a bit tighter._ The moment she tries to kill me with whatever weapon is in her pocket, after which I’ll signal to Gonta and have him strangle her--_

Iruma took out the hammer from her pocket and tossed it to the ground in front of him. Ouma froze, completely taken off-guard.

“I was plannin’ on killing you, but I can’t have that,” Iruma narrowed her gaze. “I changed my mind… At least, for now.” She chuckled. “I do wanna escape. I wanna leave this place, but…” she took in a breath. “There’s too much suspicious shit about this academy for me to just leave it alone and let the rest of you die.” 

_Wait..._

A bittersweet smile tugged at the edges of Iruma’s lips. “Not to mention… there’s someone here I actually care about. Someone I like too much to just abandon, even though I tried to shove it aside.” Iruma’s gaze moved up; she looked Ouma straight in the eye, frowning. “So rather than me killing you, Ouma…”

Ouma’s eyes widened._ What is she--_

“Will you work together with me instead?” 

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iruma expressing emotional intelligence and deciding to put her plan on hold? This really is an AU. /joke
> 
> Another cliffhanger :') That will be resolved (I guess?) on Thursday, so see you all then! Hopefully!! As long as my mental health doesn't get worse ;;;;; Quite frankly, it'd be better to expect a Friday update, just in case.
> 
> So.... familiar videogames and consoles. And floor plans... The latter was actually mentioned in the prologue, but I only got to introduce that plot point now. I'm still excited though! gahahaha >:D 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories, chitchatting, or just getting live notifications on when the fic updates, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	30. 4-4. An Offer Twice Rejected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruma dangerously forgets just how paranoid her opponent is.
> 
> Momota defends his brave, heroic title of 'leader' against a friend.
> 
> Ouma descends further into madness, but still maintains some method to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for graphic violence and character death, woooooo ; - ; If you want to skip that section, skip starting from "Iruma raised a brow" to "Her body" in the same POV section. Sorry to those who were hoping for a more interesting direction to be taken with the previous chapter's cliffhanger/plot twist, but as I, khattikeri, always say: "Not yet."
> 
> (We're getting a lot more close, though.)
> 
> I'm also mildly annoyed because all that angst and self-loathing I was feeling about myself and this story turned out to just be PMS. smh (* -_-) but on the bright side, that should mean relatively normal updates! \\(^ v ^)/
> 
> Without further ado, here's this chapter.

“...Huh?” The words came out of Ouma’s mouth before he even realized it; he mentally slapped himself for the slip-up. _Keep your shit together, Kokichi. _

“Are you in some post-orgasmic haze or what, idiot?” Iruma clicked her tongue. “I said, _do you want to work together?”_

_That doesn’t make sense. She was planning to kill me. Wait, this is probably part of her plan-- luring me in with a speech like that so that I’ll agree to the question, then she’ll be able to knock me dead with some other hidden weapon or method thanks to whatever rules she created this virtual world in… Iruma’s a simpleton, so this really shouldn’t be so confusing-- _

Even Gonta, toilet paper ready in his hands, was hesitating to make a move.

“Hm? I thought we already _were_ working together, Iruma-chan,” Ouma pouted at last. “Or was your promise to me about making me those electrobombs and electrohammers and the remote control and the Bugvac™ a lie…? WAAAAAHHHHHH! YOU LIED TO ME!”

Iruma startled, frantically trying to shush him. “SHUT IT, SHOTA FREAK,” she hissed. “Calm the fuck down, I already gave you all that shit!” She sighed as Ouma obeyed. “Look… I think it’s obvious that you’re smart enough to figure out when shit’s going downhill. I’m the greatest girl genius here, but if we’re talking boy geniuses, then you’d prolly be top billing.”

_So flattery’s the angle she’s taking,_ Ouma decided, mind racing. _Wow, she’s dumber than I thought… Trying to out-lie me, or trick me, going this far just to kill me--_

“Well,” Iruma continued, scoffing, “Aside from Shithara, I mean.” She must’ve noticed the look on Ouma’s face, because she made a face at it in return. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right.”

“Actually, you’re mostly wrong, Iruma-chan,” Ouma snickered. “Saihara-chan’s doing a better, smarter job of manipulating people than we’re giving him credit for.” He looked at Gonta, eyes steely. _Do it. Don’t hesitate. You remember what I said, didn’t you? Listen to me. You have to kill her. Everyone’s better off dying and not knowing what the real world looks like. If that even is the real world. If that wasn’t just your lie to me, all to make me look like a fool while I’m trying to esca--_

_“Ouma,”_ Iruma emphasized his name again, and the boy in question snapped out of his reverie, startled. Iruma’s brows furrowed. “Fucker... are you okay?” Her words, though crass, were laced with genuine concern. “You’ve been spacin’ out…”

No, not genuine concern. She was just acting-- Ouma couldn’t believe in liars like her!

“You want me to ‘work together’ with you?” Ouma scoffed, incredulous. “Maybe in another life. Maybe…” 

Ouma looked at the oblivious Iruma dead in the eye as he coiled a strand of hair around his finger, the signal to his accomplice. “Maybe in the afterlife…”

Iruma raised a brow, confused even as Gonta crept out from behind her. “Ouma, wha--_HNNGH!”_

Iruma stumbled back as Gonta strangled her from behind with the toilet paper fashioned into a rope. Immediately, her hands flew to her neck, clawing and scratching madly at what was choking her. She seemed to realize who was behind her as she fought back; despite the equality in the avatars’ strength, she couldn’t make Gonta’s hands or the toilet paper rope budge. Iruma then reached for her pocket, taking out the cell phone and holding it in a vice-like grip near her ear. She opened her mouth, trying to speak: “G-Go--Gok-u….ha…. I… Iru...m...maa...”

Her neck and face turned a ghastly bluish gray color with every passing second; tears leaked out of her eyes as she strained for air to speak and log Gonta out, or even herself. Iruma’s struggling, strangled voice could hardly be heard over Gonta’s hands trembling, over his crying, over his ever-growing hyperventilating as he chanted over and over, _“Gonta’s sorry Gonta’s sorry Gonta’s sorry Gonta’s sorry Gonta’s sorry Gonta’s--” _

Ouma felt a wobbly grin creep onto his face, all thoughts and his entire being numb to everything except the instantaneous relief that washed over him when Iruma’s avatar froze blue, crumpling to the snowy rooftop floor.

He marveled at it for a moment after Gonta himself fell to his knees, horrified.

Iruma’s corpse within the virtual world… looked oddly like Angie’s and Rantaro’s, when everyone discovered their bodies in the Artist Lab and the library respectively. That same, curled up position…

_‘Don’t kill. Don’t die,’ Angie had smiled, only a day or two before she’d been murdered. ‘That’s how you and your organization operate, riiiight?’_

Ouma froze.

_‘Don’t kill anyone!’ the members of DICE would clamor, grinning even though they were hungry._

_‘Don’t kill anyone,’ the members of DICE would bite their lips, young and invested in the game of Secret Organization that allowed them to ignore the reality of their situation for a bit and have fun._

_‘Don’t kill anyone,’ Kotori had scoffed, sitting next to him on a park bench while the other kids played. ‘What kind of rule is that? We’re just a bunch of homeless orphaned brats. And why pick the name DICE, anyway?’_

_‘It stands for Dumb Idiot Children Escaping,’ Ouma had joked back, giving her some slices of an orange he’d swiped from the grocer a street down, its citric scent still fresh in his nostrils. ‘Sure, we’re all just stupid kids who ran away from home, but as long as we lie to the little ones and they see it as an adventure, who cares, right?’_

_‘A gentle lie,’ Kotori rolled her eyes, accepting the oranges and sucking on them petulantly. ‘You’re ridiculous, Kokichi.’_

_‘That’s ‘Great And Powerful Nii-san Whom I Love And Will Serve For Eternity’ to you,’ Ouma feigned a sneer as he ruffled her hair, ignoring the way she cried out and smacked his arm in response. He laughed as he bit into an orange slice, kicking his feet and letting the tangy, acidic taste spread on his tongue. ‘Like I said, Kotori... they can’t ever break the rules if we only have two of them, and if they’re so simple to follow.’ _

_‘I’m the same age as you, shut up!’ Kotori giggled, batting his hands away. _

_Ouma grinned, holding up two fingers. ‘C’mon, Miss right-hand-man. Say the rules with me.’_

_They chimed in unison._

_‘Don’t die. Don’t--’_

\--What had Ouma done?

=

_What has Gonta done…? What--_

Horrified tears streamed down Gonta’s face. _Iruma-san… is dead..._

“Shh,” Ouma whispered softly into his ear, a gentle hand cupping his face and wiping his tears. “It’s okay. Iruma can’t kill us or hurt us anymore with lies like that… Not to mention, she won’t see the horrible truth of the outside world.”

“The…” Gonta swallowed, tears still blurring his vision. “The truth… She won’t see...”

He felt numb. The toilet paper lay limp in his hands, without even a trace of blood on them. They looked so white, so clean and pure and innocent, just like the snow…

...but Gonta supposed that even he used to be like that, before he murdered someone.

Ouma nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Mhm… We did her a favor in the end. But we shouldn’t worry about that anymore.”

Gonta’s gaze softened, even as harsh pain gripped his heart tighter.

_Ouma-kun is always kind and understanding... _

“Now, in order to get rid of the evidence, we need to do_ this…”_

_=_

The fact of the matter was that there was a possibility that Ouma Kotori was dead. And Ouma Kou. And Ouma Kohei, Ouma Kosei, and Ouma Koyuki. And Ouma Kouta, Ouma Kouji, Ouma Kozue, and Ouma Kousuke… all of his younger siblings, all of DICE, could be dead.

Even Ouma Konatsu, his paranoid, precious fool of a mother, was probably dead. 

Of course, that strange videogame could all have been a lie, but if it was, then Ouma Kokichi had just orchestrated a murder and broken his own organization’s rule for nothing. And he didn’t want that to be the truth, so it wouldn’t be. The videogame was real. Everyone he knew or loved was dead, and he had planned and helped carry out a murder.

He’d broken his last bond with his family and murdered someone…

But it was okay! With his own intellect at play, even the great detective-slash-maybe-mastermind wouldn’t be able to get what was going on. With no real recording devices here the way there were in the actual academy, Saihara wouldn’t be able to deduce as much in the inevitable trial. Ouma directed Gonta to the storage room near the roof to get the lattice, then instructed him on how to use the sloped roof.

_Put the hammer, the cell phone, and Iruma-chan on there… then, because of her own nasty little trick, she’ll go through the game world’s loop and end up right by the side of the chapel…_

Ouma hadn’t ever played videogames as a child-- his mother distrusted most technology. But for some reason, he seemed to understand a lot about the way they worked. This virtual world’s mechanics aside, he could even operate those mysteriously familiar consoles with ease… 

_Whatever. You don’t care about that, do you? _Ouma goaded himself. He grinned as he watched Gonta shove the lattice off the roof’s sloped edge. _You’re a supreme leader of evil. Death or videogames or truth or lies… it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have a point to it. You just want to have fun. And this killing game is fun! Manipulating others, enjoying yourself… You’re happy here. There’s no need to escape._

He could hardly hear himself as he told Gonta how to climb back down and return the toilet paper to the bathroom.

=

_What was that crashing noise? _Saihara thought, alarmed. Shirogane was equally startled, letting out a shriek and frantically looking about.

They hadn’t really found anything in the dining hall area of the manor, and Saihara was about to leave to check the salon area himself, but then _that noise_ happened.

“I-It came from around that window!” Shirogane’s eyes were wide. 

Saihara narrowed his eyes. “Then let’s go see what’s going on.” 

=

_If Iruma’s murder plan was successful and Ouma is actually dead somehow, I’m the luckiest person alive, _Shirogane thought, barely able to contain her glee. _Aside from Amami and Akamatsu and Shinguji, he was really the biggest pain in my ass..._

Her glee was short-lived, however, when she reached the window and didn’t see anything there.

“W-We should go check on the others,” she stammered to Saihara, trying to figure out what else that noise could’ve possibly been if not a murder. “Something could’ve-- I mean, I’m not trying to be negative, b-but I’m worried and all, and you know how these sorts of things usually-- um, y’know, how they usually tend to just-- sort of, yeah--”

“I know,” Saihara interrupted, holding up a hand to signal her to stop. Shirogane clamped her mouth shut; Saihara knit his brows. “That familiar sort of feeling of dread…” he sighed, resigning himself. “Let’s go out and check on the team on the other side of the river.”

Shirogane nodded. “Okay…”

“Guys! What’s going on?!” Momota’s voice came from the stairs.

“Kaito?” Saihara blinked, genuinely confused.

“Shuichi, you wouldn’t believe this shit,” Momota sounded harried. “I was on the roof, takin’ in the air, mindin’ ma own business since there wasn’t any sorta motive or anythin’ there, and then-- poof! With zero warnin’ I end up outta this place ‘n back in the computer lab! An’ then-- I looked ‘round ‘cos I had no _fuckin’_ clue whut was happenin’, and--”

“Slow down, Kaito,” Saihara said, trying to calm down the other boy. “Your accent’s bleeding through a lot. Catch your breath. Breathe for a bit. In and out...”

“Don’t regurgitate ma own lines back at me,” Momota still sounded agitated. He took in a breath anyway, gathering himself. “It was Iruma. I looked around, and at first nothing was outta the ordinary, but then all of a sudden Iruma didn’t look good.”

“W-What do you mean, she ‘didn’t look good’?” Shirogane made air quotes around the phrase, feigning worry.

“I’unno!” Momota’s voice was nearing a tea-kettle like shriek. “She looked like she was struggling for some reason, so I logged back in as fast as I could. By the time this avatar thingy rendered and whatnot there was a crashing noise. I ran back up the stairs, but the only person I saw on my way down was Ouma.”

Ouma.

Ouma had lived, and Iruma had not.

_Fuck._

“He must’ve left the manor before us, then,” Saihara pondered aloud, hand over his mouth. “But he was assigned to the salon…”

“H-He probably got curious about the rest of the manor,” Shirogane dismissed. “You know him, right? How he’s always-- um, always, you know-- trying to shake things up or do whatever he wants…”

“Coulda gone to the bathroom, too,” Momota clicked his tongue, “but he’s such a manipulative dick that I doubt it.”

“Mm,” Saihara replied, though with that thoughtful expression on his face, Shirogane figured he was probably thinking more deeply about what Ouma was doing. “Let’s leave the manor,” he finally said. “The sooner we meet up with the others, the faster we can make sure Iruma-san is safe.”

Shirogane nodded; Momota muttered something or other about ‘leaders’ that Shirogane couldn’t quite catch.

The three of them ran. Outside the manor, they saw another kindred spirit-- Gonta, who looked somewhat alarmed as they approached him. “O-Oh, Saihara-kun and Shirogane-san… and Momota-kun...”

_He seems a lot less happy than usual,_ Shirogane blinked, intrigued. 

“Gonta-kun, did you hear that noise?” Saihara asked. 

Shirogane bit her lip. _That’s my favorite detective, asking all the right questions…_

“Um… yes, Gonta heard it,” Gonta replied. “It was loud from where he was.”

“The salon, right…” Saihara sighed. “It was loud for us in the dining area too. We’re gonna check on the chapel team--”

“Yeah!” Momota interrupted cheerfully. “We’re gonna check on the chapel team on the other side ‘a the river, so come with us if you’d like!”

_Jealousy is an interesting color on Momota, I’ll admit,_ Shirogane thought, amused._ He’s making the foreshadowing of a falling out between the two of them a tad too obvious, but it’ll do. Audiences won’t have predicted something like that just yet._

_More importantly, Saihara’s getting a lot more chatty these days._ _People are trusting him more because of the first three trials, and now that I’ve rolled out those consoles to replace the flashback lights, I can let the plot and character development really kick in..._

“What’s this?” Saihara stepped aside from the path to the river to look at some shitty, irrelevant piece of driftwood held up by a rock in front of the mansion.

Gonta furrowed his brows. “Hm? It looks like… wood.”

_His voice really does sound stilted,_ Shirogane placed a hand on her cheek, a little sigh escaping her lips. _So he must be related to the case. It’s only natural that I’d know, though, as the person who created him._

“It’s the same sign that we used as a bridge… that Iruma-san kicked off,” Saihara realized aloud. He narrowed his gaze, placing a pensive hand over his mouth.

_The thinking pose! The thinking pose!!!!_ Shirogane was excited, but she’d have to contain herself and act in-character. So it wasn’t just a shitty, irrelevant piece of driftwood! “U-Um, Saihara-kun, what’s wrong...?”

=

_The current of the river flowed toward the chapel specifically, so how did this end up on the other side of the map?_

Saihara shook his head, picking up the sign anyway. “As long as it’s here, we can use it,” he asserted, determined. 

“Good thinking, sidekick,” Momota cleared his throat.

“Saihara-kun’s almost like a different person,” Gonta commented. “He reminds Gonta of Akamatsu-san…”

Saihara nearly tripped over his own feet and dropped the sign. “H-Huh?” his voice cracked.

“It’s true,” Shirogane said somewhat bashfully. “You’re a lot more… um, how do I say it… _reliable, _in a sense.”

“You’ve definitely started acting more like everyone’s leader,” Momota mumbled, continuing to walk.

“Huh…” Saihara was at a loss for words. “W-Well, it’s okay… I…”

Shirogane giggled. “It’s fine to be flustered, silly! We all believe in you and your talent, so you should be proud!”

“Let’s just go to the bridge,” Saihara said, hurriedly picking up the pace of his walk. _I have no clue what they’re talking about or why they think I’m amazing all of a sudden, but if someone really was murdered… it means I’ve failed again._

By the time the four of them reached the place where the bridge used to be, Saihara could hear Yumeno explaining to Ouma on the other side, “--and her avatar isn’t moving and we’re all stuck here!”

_Her avatar isn’t moving? _

_Iruma-san’s?_

“Whaddaya mean?” Momota demanded.

“She means exactly what she said,” Harukawa replied. “Iruma’s avatar isn’t moving, and there are lots of strange objects around--”

“We have to log out and find out what’s happening,” Kiibo sounded especially frantic. “Please!”

“Well, it’d be a lot easier if a little miss_ someone_ hadn’t kicked off the only board,” Ouma sighed dramatically. He giggled. “Nishishi… I guess all of you on the other side are trapped.”

“Oh, I brought the sign back,” Saihara held it up. 

Ouma’s smile fell for a split second. 

=

_Of course stupid, smart, sexy, amazing, cute, perfect detective-slash-mastermind Saihara Shuichi has the fucking sign board. _

_Of course he realized the world loops by now. Of course he was lucky enough to find the signboard even if he hasn’t realized yet._

Ouma hummed, a grin on his face. “Oooh, nice, Saihara-chan! As expected of the bestest leader on the planet!”

_Of course your plan’s gonna come apart, Kokichi._

_Of course you’re gonna fail and die a miserable, painful death like you deserve, if Gonta isn’t accepted as your scapegoat._

_Of course the game’s gonna continue. _

_Of course._

_Of course._

_Of course--_

= 

Saihara opened his mouth, probably to contest Ouma’s praise. “I’m not--”

“Give it here, Shuichi,” Momota motioned for Saihara to give him the board, then set it down when Saihara gave it to him. “There! No need to thank m-- _us,” _he coughed to hide the slip-up, knowing that they were used to him coughing by now even though he didn’t have the disease in the virtual world. “No need to thank us, alright?” he beamed at the others, a winning, heroic smile. “Let’s get back to the manor and log out, fast!”

They all ran. It was adventurous and dashing, yet simultaneously rife with tension. Once they reached the inside of the manor, they rushed up to the area with the phone.

“Please move,” Kiibo demanded, getting past everyone and harshly picking up the phone first.

Momota pursed his lips. _Figures he’d be most upset if somethin’ happened ta her…_

“Kiibo,” Kiibo said his own name, voice taut, and he logged out. One by one, the others did the same. 

_It’s weird, though…_ Momota frowned._ How’d I accidentally log out from the roof? There wasn’t a phone there or anythin’, so why…_

“You guys go first,” Saihara said quietly. “I’ll log out after.”

_And then there’s him, suddenly a lot more confident and cool all of a sudden…_

It felt like a vague… threat? An affront? Momota didn’t know, but he didn’t really like how Saihara’s sudden assertiveness and popularity encroached on his own.

Like, come on! Momota was the hero here. He was the leader.

Right?

Shaking his head, Momota held up the phone against his ear and said his own name, logging out.

=

_So that’s what logging out looks like, huh…_

“So thaaaat’s what logging out looks like,” Ouma repeated Saihara’s own thoughts, twirling a strand of hair. “Cool!”

“W-Whatever!” Shirogane chided. “We-- We need to get b-back to make sure Iruma-san’s safe!” She held up the phone to her ear. “U-Um… Shirogane Tsumugi.”

And then she was logged out too. Which meant the only two people left in the room were Saihara, and…

“Saihara-chan, you can log out before me. I’m sure that detective’s intuition of yours is kicking in right about now. Isn’t it?” Ouma grinned. Saihara paused; Ouma pouted. “What? Go on, log out.”

_What on earth is he thinking…? _Saihara walked up to the phone, taking it in his hand. 

“Saihara-chan.”

_I knew he’d contradict himself right after saying that…! _Saihara turned around. “Is something wrong, Ouma-kun?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Ouma began, voice completely even. “Now that we’re a hundred percent alone…” 

Suddenly, Saihara stumbled, feeling a jerking sensation in his head. “Argh…. ugh…” 

Ouma wrinkled his nose.

It all gave… Saihara……. a head…..……. ache………………..

And then he was swimming. Swimming in a blurry world, with words floating around him, and a person’s voice speaking them.

_ **Now that we’re a hundred percent alone** _

_Wait a minute, _Saihara thought, brows furrowed._ This isn’t how it usually happens…_

_ **I’m curious, so tell me.** _

_This is--_

_This voice is--_

_ **Wha-- how did you--** _

“Ouma...kun…?” Saihara croaked, eyes opening.

Ouma beamed at him from above, and for a moment Saihara almost thought he was back in Gonta’s lab, at the Insect Meet and Greet. “Rise and shine, my sleeping beloved,” Ouma cooed. “While you were out I slipped some poison into your mouth. Smells like almonds, right? Classic cyanide.”

Saihara got up, holding his head. _That was Ouma-kun’s voice in my memories._ He looked at Ouma, who seemed completely unaware of what Saihara had just experienced. 

“That was a lie, you know,” Ouma tilted his head.

“I _do_ know,” Saihara groaned in protest, sitting up. “It doesn’t smell like anything here.”

“Au contraire, for I also plugged your nose and blocked all olfactory sense with a special toxin!” Ouma bragged. He paused for a grand moment, then giggled, breaking the tension. “Nishishi… just kidding. You’re not dying after all, hooray!” A beat. “Or are you?”

“N-No…” Saihara grimaced as he stood up fully, cheeks reddening. _How embarrassing… Collapsing from a headache in front of him… _“What were you going to ask me?”

Ouma smiled at him. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Saihara’s mind suddenly went blank. “Wh-- huh?!”

“You’re the sweetest, most kindest detective I’ve ever met,” Ouma continued, his avatar looking so pleased that a little music note was coming from his head. “And the smartest, and the coolest.” 

“What are you--” Saihara physically fought the urge to bring his arms up to cover his face, or to reach up for a hat that was no longer there to avoid Ouma’s praise. “What are you even saying?”

“I’m _saying,”_ Ouma emphasized, twirling his hair, “that a talent and personality like yours is wasted on a dumb-dumb musclehead like Momota-chan.” He leaned in, his next words a coy whisper: “Why don’t you dump him and be my best friend instead?”

Saihara froze. _Best friend… Does he mean joining up with him…? A team-up… _

“We can save everyone together,” Ouma wheedled. “And you do want to save everyone, riiight? Work together with me, Saihara-chan.”

Saihara stared._ I don’t know what his game is, or why the Ouma-kun in my memories is so different from the one in front of me, but I do know that I’m not going to deal with his shenanigans right now._

_Especially not when it’s possible he could be tied to a potential murder._

Then, Saihara picked up the phone. “Saihara Shuichi,” he spoke calmly into it, still staring at Ouma, praying that nobody had actually died.

And then he was out.

=

“Nishishi…” Ouma snickered. “Aw, I got rejected.”

Psh. So flirting _was_ out of the question. Ouma figured that he’d get rejected if he tried an Iruma-esque approach, but really, was it that un-sexy of him to try and have a manipulative heart-to-heart session with his crush in the middle of a murder discovery?

Saihara’s unwillingness to team up with Ouma in particular over dimwitted brutes like Momota and killers like Harukawa <strike>you’re a killer too </strike>proved one thing: nobody trusted him <strike>of course they wouldn’t when you’re acting so weird</strike>, and everyone would be after him. His life was at stake. The killing game was targeting him specifically <strike>you’re acting like Mom</strike> and he couldn’t trust anyone <strike>you’re paranoid</strike>.

There was nothing left for Ouma to do except lie, lie, lie, and play the game as long as he could. Maybe he could survive the trial, if Saihara suddenly got dumber.

Saihara, Saihara, Saihara…

Ouma sighed, talking to himself now that he was at last truly alone. “I’d do anything to get him to notice me…”

And what was that one last thing? In the middle, that-- that pseudo-passed out state? A particularly bad memory headache? Ouma had wrinkled his nose too, after all, so maybe they both remembered something-- or just superior acting from a mastermind? Why was it always Saihara whom he thought of, or who triggered his own memory headaches? Was it a connection, or a ploy? A scheme? 

Ouma laughed. “...even if I had to strangle him.”

_In that case, I’ll out-scheme him and be a **better **mastermind._

Ouma took the phone in his hands and said his own name, his mind made up as he logged himself out.

=

The raw, hurt screaming was deafening-- almost like Saihara had walked straight into a nightmare. The others were standing, defeated, around its source.

“IRUMA-SAN! IRUMA-SAN--” Kiibo was sobbing, tears streaming out of his disbelieving eyes, shaking Iruma by her shoulders. “IRUMA-SAN, WAKE UP, PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP, DON’T _LEAVE--” _he let out a long, strangled cry, clutching his head and _wailing_ as electricity sparked from his antenna. _**“MIU!”**_

Kiibo’s voice had changed in that last split second. Shirogane, kind and timid though she was, went up to Kiibo in an attempt to help him fix his antenna and get him back to normal.

Saihara could see above most of the shorter people-- Iruma was lying limp in her chair, eyes wide open with thin tear streaks going down her cheeks. Her mouth was open, a wordless picture of horror, and both her hands were fixed around her neck, as if trying to pry something off of it. Her face was pale, and the area around her neck looked somewhat blue.

_Shock…? Strangling? Either way, this is--_

He couldn’t even _think;_ Kiibo was screaming-- _mourning _that loudly. It struck Saihara’s heart, how desperately Kiibo was crying out for Iruma. It reminded him of his pain when Akamatsu had died… That numb, desperate, horrible sinking pain...

_Iruma-san was definitely planning something of her own in that virtual world. So why… why was she the victim instead? _Saihara pressed his lips into a thin line, fists clenching uselessly by his sides. _Fuck… Dammit! I should’ve prevented this--!_

Nearby, Monotaro seemed upset. “Grandma…” he cried.

Gonta was sobbing, too. “Gonta doesn’t… understand…” he hiccuped. “Things were dark… Gonta slept… Then Gonta woke up, and-- and Iruma-san was just like this--” he sniffled, furrowing his brows determinedly despite the tears. “Who could’ve done this?!” 

Ouma giggled mischievously, utterly out of place compared to the somber atmosphere of the room and people around him. “You might be bad with technology, Gonta, but you can’t play dumb!”

Monokuma was tapping his foot, waiting. “The announcement bell already rang, y’know,” he yawned callously.

Monophanie mimicked Monokuma. “Daddy’s right… Can we move on?”

Kiibo was trembling, sparks still coming from his head and tears still flowing out of his eyes. 

“U-Um--” Shirogane looked at Monokuma fearfully. “K-Kiibo-kun seems to be… malfunctioning…”

Everyone was dead silent.

“As if any of us could fix him _now,”_ Ouma finally scoffed. “His one-stop repairwoman girlfriend just died, Shirogane-chan.”

“Shut the _fuck up,”_ Momota coughed somewhat violently. “Fuckin’ inconsiderate ass--”

“I-I can… try my best…” Shirogane’s lip wobbled. “It’s super important that-- that, um, ah--”

“What, you’ll fix the robot with anime knowledge?” Harukawa narrowed her gaze. “We don’t have that kind of time. Not when an investigation is upon us.”

“Just fix him however you can,” Monokuma waved a paw dismissively. 

Like magic, the sparking stopped.

“O-Oh,” Shirogane blinked, stepping back. 

Monophanie let out a low whistle. “Well, I suppose that settles it!”

“Guess you didn’t have to do anything at all,” Yumeno raised a brow. “Huh. I’ve never seen stage magic that coincidentally useful before...”

Kiibo was still crying, though his voice was more numb and subdued than it was before. “Iruma...san…”

Saihara clenched his fists tighter.

“Upupu… It’s decided, participants!” Monokuma only grinned. _“Your time to investigate has begun.”_

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'( rip iruma... and........ oof ouch ouma........... and ;;;;;;;; kiibo............................................. .
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories, chitchatting, or just getting live notifications on when the fic updates, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	31. 4-5. Investigation/Digitalization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma and Shirogane freak for two very, _very_ different reasons.
> 
> Momota's envy surpasses all others by leaps and bounds. 
> 
> Gonta's blissful amnesia and Saihara's cutthroat deductions are bound to crash soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, the investigation! not much else to say except i hope you guys are still enjoying this story, even if the plot and hints are moving at a pace slower than a snail's. 
> 
> edit: except happy new year!! lmao my brain broke
> 
> onward!

** __ ** _You killed someone you killed someone you killed someone you killed someone you killed someone you--_

_YOU FUCKING MURDERER--_

Ouma tried and failed to steady his heart rate. 

_What are you gonna do? Repent? Try to redeem yourself? You can’t do that, Kokichi. There’s no coming back from taking away someone’s life. Even if there’s a slim chance that you won’t be somehow killed or punished just because you aren’t technically the blackened, you can’t act nice or helpful afterwards just because you’re ‘sorry’. _

_Abandon your desires and sacrifice yourself to save them, no matter how rotten you have to act._

_That’s all a killer like you can do anymore…_

_=_

Saihara took out his Monopad and looked at the new case information.

**VICTIM:** IRUMA MIU

**AGE: **[REDACTED]

**SEX:** [REDACTED]

**GENDER: **F

**LOCATION OF DEATH:** COMPUTER LAB (CAMPUS FLOOR: FOURTH)

**CAUSE OF DEATH:** ASPHYXIATION

**TIME OF DEATH: **6:30 A.M.

**KILLER:** [REDACTED]

“Huh…” Ouma peered over his shoulder. “It was only half an hour ago…”

Saihara moved his arm, forcing Ouma away. “You have your own Monopad where you can see this, Ouma-kun… What are you trying to do?”

Ouma put up his hands. “Don’t be so wary of me!” he giggled. “I’m just looking.”

But Saihara wasn’t so sure. _He… looks really off, for some reason… and that proposal of his from earlier was more like an ambush than a plan. What is he thinking?_

In the end, whatever Ouma was planning or playing at was a distraction. Yet again, Saihara would have to do his best to put together all the pieces they found at the trial proper. As the Ultimate Detective, it was all he could do. Leading everyone to make sure nobody else died…

Saihara bit his lip. _At this point, saving everyone and continuing Kaede’s wish is up to me. I can’t hold back._

=

_Age is redacted… Of course. I know now that we’re all older than the fifteen or so years we all **think** we are, but it was so stupid of me not to realize earlier..._

Saihara looked like he was thinking something troublesome again, so Ouma took the chance to stay quiet and observe. Most of the others were still numb or crying from the shock of someone dying again.

To Ouma’s surprise and disgust, Gonta was one of them.

_I knew Gonta was manipulative at heart. Crying and acting all sad as if he has no idea he was the one who actually killed her… Fucking vile. For now, I’ll have to avoid him. Maybe I can…_

“I was serious about you ditching Momota-chan, you know,” Ouma said coyly, a finger over his lips. “Iruma-chan isn’t much of a loss, but since she’s dead now, we might as well work together.”

Saihara looked at him disapprovingly. “She’s helped us plenty; don’t say that.” He sighed. “And I was serious about saying I’m not interested in a team-up, Ouma-kun,” Saihara said coolly. “At least, not now.” Louder, to the others, he spoke up: “We’ll have to go back into the virtual world to figure out what happened.”

Ouma sighed. The others murmured, discussing who would go in and do what.

“U-Um…” Shirogane raised a hand hesitantly. “I’ll stay here and watch over Kiibo-kun…” She turned to look at him. Kiibo looked dazed, eyes glazed over and tears pooling at the end of his chin. “It doesn’t seem as though he’s, um, in the right state of mind to go back in there right now, and…” Shirogane let out a small noise of pain, holding her head. _“I’m not gonna do something as cruel as leaving my friend alone when they’re feeling such--”_

She looked surprised when she said that, blinking back.

“Such _what_, Shirogane?” Yumeno asked inquisitively. Shirogane looked at her, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

Ouma was rather curious too. The words weren’t triggering any headaches, but...

“No,” Kiibo interrupted quietly, sniffling as he wiped the tears off his face. “I’ll go back. I can’t hinder the investigation just because of my own feelings,” he sighed. “I’ll…” he grimaced. “I’ll deal with it somehow.”

Not _‘I’ll definitely find her killer’_. Not _‘The blackened will get the consequences they deserve at the trial.’_ Nothing. No vilification of the murderer.

It made Ouma want to throw up that much more.

=

“Me, Maki, Shuichi, Kiibo, Yumeno, ‘n Ouma will go back in,” Momota decided. “Shirogane ‘n Gonta stay out here.”

Shirogane fought the urge to physically roll her eyes. _Gee, thanks. Leaving me alone with a corpse and the guy who thinks mosquito bites are ‘bug kisses’..._

Gonta sniffled. “G-Go back in where?” He furrowed his brows. “Don’t waste time! There’s an investigation we have to do!”

“The virtual world,” Harukawa blinked. “Duh? That’s where the murder probably happened.”

_That is where it happened, yeah. Probably? _The gears in Shirogane’s mind turned carefully and analytically._ There weren’t cameras in there, so I don’t know for sure, and I haven’t checked any of the video feeds, but none of us were out of the virtual world for that whole duration of time… Except Momota, but he’s too sick and too righteous to kill anyone._

“Ver-chew…?” Gonta looked confused through his tears. He shook his head. “Gonta isn’t as smart as everyone else, so he’ll let you do what you have to do…”

“We can’t be sure of that anyway, Harumaki-chan,” Ouma pointed out with a grin, putting his arms behind his head. “There’s a bottle of poison in my seat, y’know.”

_Huh?_

_“What?!” _At this, Kiibo startled, immediately speedwalking to where Ouma was. He practically shook the other boy by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?!”

Ouma shrugged. “It was totally unimportant.”

_I wanna throttle this <strike>you can’t do that he’s your friend</strike> scheming little bitch so bad--!_ Shirogane gulped, a shaky grimace on her face. “Ouma-kun, that’s…”

“As if!” Yumeno scoffed, making her way over to pick up the bottle. “Huh…” She turned it over, reading the label. “Nyeh…” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, holding up the bottle in front of everyone else. “Wasn’t this in Saihara’s lab?”

All eyes fell on Saihara. 

“Wha-- me?” Saihara pointed at himself incredulously. “No! We all agreed we wouldn’t go back there--”

“But it’s still possible,” Harukawa bit her thumbnail. “Not just for Shuichi, but for any of us. Although…” her gaze darkened in Ouma’s direction. “I think it’s fairly likely that if the poison was involved, it had to have been _you.”_

“Nishishi… you do you, Harumaki-chan,” Ouma grinned, baring his teeth. “I’m just an adorable little bystander.”

“I-It--” Shirogane bit her lip. “It was in _Ouma-kun’s _chair, though… H-He’s a lot more crafty than that, so why would he leave it in his own chair?” 

Momota narrowed his eyes. Ouma giggled. “Maybe I was trying some reverse psychology, Shirogane-chan!”

Everyone winced at that.

“Um…” A small voice piped up. “Maybe I can help with the investigation?”

Shirogane did a double-take. “Monotaro?” She asked, surprised.

Monotaro nodded, looking rather weepy. “Grandma died, and I cared about her…” his face suddenly turned steely and serious. “But also… I finally broke past my amnesia. I remembered my hacking capabilities!”

“Hacking?” Kiibo asked, suddenly looking a lot more optimistic. He touched his head absent-mindedly. “H-Huh…”

(_Why am **I** getting a headache?_ Shirogane wondered, frustrated.)

“Monotaro!” Monophanie stomped her foot, annoyed. “We aren’t supposed to _help them!”_

“But--”

“No buts,” Monophanie hissed. She pouted. “You’ll ruin the show!”

Shirogane honestly agreed with Monophanie in this case. ‘Breaking past amnesia’ was a stupid plot point to begin with, and her contempt for that sudden deus ex machina could only be rivaled by her contempt for the slowly unraveling disaster plot she herself had created.

“I’ll hack, then!” Monotaro jumped up and began typing away on the computer.

Kiibo winced. “That’s not how programming actually works, but okay…”

“Hm…” Monotaro clicked here and there. “According to the login and logout records, Grandma logged in last. Momota logged out and then logged back in somewhere in the middle. Ouma logged out last. There are no other abnormalities.”

_So now they’ll be a bit suspicious of Momota,_ Shirogane thought. _Though based on his character traits alone, it’s obviously not him._

“Hm… This is weird!” Monotaro exclaimed. “Grandma’s avatar was set to be an object instead of a person!”

“Huh? But she looked like a person!” Yumeno insisted.

“There are different classifications for objects in digital worlds or videogames,” Kiibo explained. “And that classification affects rendering or travel. For example, if there is a barrier preventing one from reaching the next level or a locked area, the classification of an avatar as human would--”

“I don’t understand even a little bit,” Yumeno beamed. “Thank you.”

“It means that anything classified as an object can pass through restricted areas, but anything classified as a human can’t,” Kiibo summarized. 

“Why don’t _you_ just hack this, then?” Harukawa asked. “Since you clearly know so much.”

Kiibo touched his head, confused. “I… I don’t…”

Saihara observed them all quietly.

“Oh!” Monotaro put his paws over his mouth. “This is weird…”

“What is it?” Kiibo asked eagerly. 

“Well, Grandpa…” Monotaro pointed at the screen. “It says here that Ouma’s avatar was set so that it would freeze if Grandma’s avatar touched him.”

_His avatar would freeze if Iruma touched him…? Sheesh… I was right to classify her as a threat to be eliminated. I figured someone like her would be terrible at planning a murder, but this is sinister…_

_Now everything makes sense. _Shirogane’s glasses gleamed. _She set this all up in order to kill Ouma just like she’d been planning earlier, but for whatever reason it failed and she died instead. _

_Which means the killer is probably Ouma himself…_

It was hard to hide her glee, but Shirogane managed. She had to keep up her act and be patient. No reveals til the final trial, after all.

_If Ouma’s the culprit, then he can be executed in this chapter._

_Two threats gone in one fell swoop._

=

Saihara furrowed his brows. _It was set so that Ouma-kun’s avatar would freeze if Iruma-san touched him?_

“Oh?” Ouma raised a brow, intrigued. “Well, color me surprised! I guess Iruma-chan thought I’d be more useful as a shitty statue, too!”

Monotaro hopped down from where he was. “That was all I could find… Did it help?”

Kiibo patted him on the head. “It did. Thank you, Monotaro.”

Monotaro beamed, latching onto Kiibo’s leg. “Yaaaaay! Thanks, Grandpa!”

Kiibo winced, holding his head. “L-Like I said, I’m not your grandpa…”

“Let’s go to the virtual world,” Saihara finally said. “We can’t waste any--”

“Can’t waste anymore investigation time!” Momota coughed, interrupting him. He grinned. “Let’s log back in, everyone!”

_What’s up with him lately? _Saihara frowned. _He keeps interrupting and trying to one-up me…_

“W-We need to find evidence here!” Gonta protested. “Where the murder was! Don’t split up!”

“Aww, don’t worry, Gonta!” Ouma giggled. “It’s fine if we fuck up Iruma-chan’s trial!”

“N-No!” Gonta furrowed his brows. 

“It’ll help with the investigation to split up like this,” Saihara said firmly. “Ouma-kun is pulling your leg.”

“Oh…” Gonta looked sheepish. Ouma let out a little ‘tch’ noise. 

“It won’t be a waste of time to go back to the virtual world, okay?” Saihara smiled, making his way back to his own chair. “We’ll make sure of it. Let’s go, guys.” 

_To find Iruma-san’s killer and to continue Kaede’s wish… I’ll definitely make sure we can do it. We’ll find all the evidence we possibly can!_

He put the wires in their respective places and let the digital world take him over.

=

Momota tsked as Saihara logged in. 

Harukawa gave him a curious look, but he waved it off, walking to his own seat. He was going to sit when something odd in his chair caught his eye. 

_A plastic wrapper…?_ Momota picked it up, inspecting it. Then, he waved it about. “Hey, does this belong ta anyone?” 

Everyone shook their heads, including Ouma. Momota furrowed his brows, gaze wandering to Saihara, who was now fully connected to the virtual world. _Is it Shuichi’s…?_

He looked at the bottle of poison that was now sitting on the table of the computer.

_It’s from that…?_

Momota shook his head, letting the wrapper fall to the floor. _Either way, it’s not the most important thing here. I gotta go ta the virtual world ‘n lead everyone in the real investigation!_

=

The others at last logged in. “Iruma-san’s avatar and those other things were on the chapel side, right?” Saihara immediately asked.

Harukawa nodded. “A lattice, a cell phone, a hammer, and herself.”

“Maybe she went sledding!” Ouma grinned. “Nishishi…”

“Now’s not the time for jokes,” Kiibo frowned.

“Because of course a robot like you would know anything about human jokes and social culture,” Ouma sneered. He suddenly wailed. “How dare you try to control my speech!”

“Man, leave Kiibo alone!” Momota growled. “We can’t do this during an investigation! Why do you always try to start shit with us?!”

Ouma sighed dramatically. “Well, it’s not like there’s gonna be a lot to do here, so I don’t really get why Kiiboy even had to come--”

A rustling noise, followed by a strong _“Ahem.”_

The others turned and were stunned by the sight in front of them: Yumeno holding up a saw. 

“WH-- Yumeno-san!” Saihara stammered. “What’s-- put that down!”

She smiled and took a step closer, irritation thinly veiled by her hat. “Don’t worry, Saihara. This one’s just a magician prop.” Her gaze darkened, focused on Ouma and Momota. “But if _you two _don’t shut up, quit bickering, and start investigating properly, I might get angry enough to log out and go bring a real one.” 

Momota grimaced, but stood down. “Y-You’re right…” He cleared his throat. “We gotta focus!”

Ouma’s smile wobbled. “Ahaha…. kay.”

Harukawa let out a low whistle, smirking. “Didn’t expect that from you, Yumeno.”

Yumeno sighed, putting the saw back in her coat pocket. “Nyeh… I just don’t like hearing arguments anymore.”

_Wait a minute._ Saihara furrowed his brows. “Yumeno-san, how’d you bring that in with you?” _If I recall correctly… _“Didn’t Iruma-san say she programmed it so that objects from outside aside from ourselves and our clothes wouldn’t be transferred?”

Yumeno shrugged. “I never go anywhere without at least several props on me.”

“Iruma-san probably thought it’d be a pain to individually program all your props so that they couldn’t come in,” Kiibo sighed. “She’s always hated unrealistic things like magic...”

“‘Always’?” Saihara repeated. _That’s right-- before this murder happened, I was wondering--!_

Was Kiibo related to Iidabashi, the mysterious person in Saihara’s memories? And was that Iidabashi the same as Iruma’s childhood friend from her biggest fantasy?

“Not even magic tricks?” Yumeno clicked her tongue. “I thought someone as kid-like as her would be okay with just tricks…”

“What part of that horny idiot was kid-like?” Ouma bit his nail, looking genuinely curious.

“Always… yes? What do you mean?” Kiibo tilted his head, thoughtful and ignoring everything Ouma was saying. “She’s… always been that way. As long as I’ve known her.” He sighed, changing the subject. “We don’t have time to talk here. Let’s leave and go to the chapel.” Kiibo turned to Saihara, Ouma, and Momota. “Yumeno-san, Harukawa-san, and I can show you all what we found there.”

The six of them ran down the stairs, most of them going out the door. Saihara stopped at the entryway, staring at the map. 

_The squiggly lines… Have been bothering me for a while. If the outer edges of this area are the left side of the manor and the right side of the chapel, then why are the squiggly lines near where the bridge and river are?_

_“Shuichi!” _Momota yelled from outside. “Hurry up!”

Saihara startled out of his thoughts, running out. “S-Sorry, I’m coming!” 

=

“There was a message on your helmet’s screen when you woke up?” Shirogane blinked, surprised.

Gonta nodded. “It was weird… It said ‘AVATAR ERROR’, but Gonta didn’t know what it meant… It was like a dream. It didn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you connected the wires wrong?” Shirogane suggested.

Gonta didn’t know what it meant. _Any_ of it. Wires, helmets, ver-chew-alls; all of it was confusing and technological. If it was something like the motive video console, he might’ve found it familiar, but otherwise, Gonta hadn’t the faintest clue what was going on.

He sighed, looking at the body. “Iruma-san…” Tears welled up in his eyes again. “Gonta doesn’t know. It doesn’t make sense, he doesn’t remember… Who could’ve done this?!”

=

_You,_ Shirogane realized with a start. 

_It was you, Gonta._

‘Avatar Error’... Of course. Of course that fucking brat would’ve found a_ scapegoat--_

“Shirogane-san, don’t cry!” Gonta exclaimed, frantically reaching over to his pocket. “Here, handkerchief!”

Shirogane was stunned to see that she really was crying. _Why…?_

_ <strike>He’s your friend he’s your friend he’s your friend--</strike> _

_No. You’re stressed because of Ouma’s plans wrecking your own. He’s ruining the show._

She sniffled, exaggerating her cries and accepting the handkerchief. “I-I’m so sorry, Gonta-kun, I just-- I just--” Shirogane blew her nose, face red, and dabbed at her eyes underneath her glasses. “I jus’ feel so sad all of a sudden, even though I wasn’t really-- I was, I was just-- I wasn’t all that, y’know, close to Iruma-san--”

“It’s okay,” Gonta patted her on the head, keeping a gentlemanly distance from her. “Gonta knows it hurts, each time someone dies… Everyone says ladies are emotional, but gentlemen can feel sad, too.” 

“Yeah…” Shirogane sighed. She smiled. “Thank you, Gonta-kun.”

_Perhaps that memory loss will make this trial more fun._

<strike> _And I’m sorry_ </strike>

Shirogane let out a small whine, clutching her head.

_Fun and interesting, for both myself to analyze and the audience to enjoy._

_ <strike>that I’m not strong enough </strike> _

The headache became more excruciating, and Shirogane’s pain grew stronger. “Aagh--!”

_A killer who forgot that he even killed someone, huh…_

_ <strike>to fully fight back--!</strike> _

“Shirogane-san?” Gonta blinked, alarmed. “Shirogane-san--!”

_ ** <strike>Wake up.</strike> ** _

Everything felt dizzy around her. Someone shook her by the shoulders, but her vision was growing dark. “Shirogane-san, wake up!”

** _ <strike>Wake up.</strike> _ **

_Amami-kun… Or is it Kiibo-kun…? Which one of you is dead… And which one of you… is calling my name…_

** _ <strike>WAKE UP--</strike> _ **

=

Shirogane let out a loud, screaming gasp, panting heavily as she woke up.

It wasn’t at all natural, but somehow, Gonta felt a sort of resigned normalcy in watching her. Like he was used to seeing people having nightmares… It was a strange feeling, and he didn’t like it. “Shirogane-san, do you want water?”

Shirogane’s head snapped over to Gonta, eyes wild. “What--” she croaked. “What…”

“You passed out,” Gonta attempted to be helpful. “You told Gonta ‘thank you’ after we talked a bit about Iruma-san and how sad you were feeling, and then you suddenly just…” He gestured vaguely. “Collapsed.”

Gonta tactfully decided to not mention the fact that she was mumbling Amami’s name in her sleep-like state. It wasn’t gentlemanly to pry into a lady’s affairs… And besides, just because Gonta couldn’t remember his dream now with the helmet didn’t mean that he’d forgotten the fact that Amami and Shirogane were probably close before the former had been murdered.

(Some of Shirogane’s fingernails still had weeks-old nail polish on them, after all.)

Shirogane shook her head. “No water.” She was sweating, and she wrinkled her nose, clearly disgusted with the state of herself. “I’ll… relax a bit…” 

Gonta sighed. “Gonta isn’t sure what you saw, Shirogane-san, but if you’re having nightmares, he’ll be there in the real world to help.” He smiled gently. “If you’re having a bad dream, all you need to do is remember who you are and wake up.”

It was easy for Gonta to say, but he’d always wanted to give that sort of advice to someone. Like Akamatsu did, or like how Momota tried to do.

Shirogane stared at him. Really stared at him for a moment. It was unsettling, but at the same time, Gonta didn’t feel all that scared. “Let’s just wait for the others to finish investigating,” she croaked at last. Shirogane coughed.

“Never mind, Gonta thinks he’ll get you some water after all,” Gonta hurried. 

“I got it,” Monophanie brushed past him with a cup of water in her hands. “Here you go, Shirogane!”

Warily, Shirogane took the cup and drank. “That’s very nice of you, Monophanie-san,” Gonta replied, surprised. “Thank you!”

“That’s because I love Shirogane veeeeery much!” Monophanie winked, making a cutesy heart shape with her paws. She took the empty glass from Shirogane’s hands. “I love taking care of people <3”

Gonta wondered at first how she said <3 out loud, but decided not to comment on it. Instead, he thought more carefully about what Monophanie meant by the rest of her statement. “You love her… Like how a doctor takes care of their patients?” Gonta mused. 

Monophanie grinned, sickeningly sweet.

“Why, yes… That’s exactly right.”

=

“Toilet paper?” Saihara blinked. 

Ouma wanted to scream.

_I told Gonta to put it back in the bathroom, so why--_

_Why is it out here?! Did he get cornered or something?!_

“Some fucking prank by Ouma, probably,” Momota scoffed. “We don’t have time--”

“Wait,” Saihara interrupted, holding up a hand in front of himself as if to pause Momota’s speech. “Let’s… Let’s check it out.” He walked closer to inspect it. 

Ouma’s pulse quickened as Saihara picked up the roll and turned it over, looking owlishly at the length of paper hanging out from it and tugging as if to check that it really wouldn’t break in the virtual world. “Okay, but…” Saihara muttered to himself, a pensive finger over his mouth.

_What is he thinking. What analysis is going on? What has he deduced?! _

Saihara looked at the side of the manor. And then, slowly, his gaze trailed up, towards the sloped roof…

Ouma’s breath hitched as he caught what Saihara’s deductions had led to.

“Binocular stand…?” Saihara whispered, furrowing his brows. He looked at the toilet paper and tugged on it again, experimental. 

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK--_

“Shuichi,” Harukawa called out to him, a little bit impatient. “Kaito was right earlier, you know. We need to go.”

(Ouma had never been more glad to hear Harukawa’s grating, irritating voice.)

=

“Ah…” Saihara set the toilet paper roll down, walking back towards the others. “Yeah, sorry.”

_So the toilet paper was used as a rope of some sort…? That would explain Iruma-san’s strangled state… And then because it’s a digital world, there’s probably no blood, so they just used the same roll as a rope to climb down._

_Meaning the murder took place on the manor’s rooftop… but then why is the body on the chapel side?_

The only person who should’ve been on the rooftop was Momota, but Saihara didn’t want to dwell on that bit for long. He could only pray that his friend had been logged out at the time of the murder, and wasn’t the real killer.

As they all walked, Saihara decided to observe the river flow. “Isn’t it weird how the signboard flowed from the chapel to the manor even though the virtual world ends there?” he pointed out. Kiibo raised a brow.

“The river does flow in that general direction on both sides, so it makes sense for it to come from the chapel side,” Kiibo replied. “Right?”

Saihara wasn’t sure. 

They all crossed the bridge and got to the chapel, walking inside. “Here’s the toolbox,” Yumeno rummaged through some cardboard boxes by the entryway and brought it out. “Everything’s in there except the hammer, which was found at the crime scene.”

“This isn’t CSI,” Kiibo scoffed.

“That’s Detective Conan to you, you robotic American heathen,” Ouma sneered.

“Let’s go see the site of the crash, then,” Harukawa said coolly, ignoring their banter and walking out of the chapel. Saihara and the others followed her to the side of the chapel, where Iruma’s avatar still lay in the digital snow.

“Hey,” Momota frowned. “This lattice was in the closet on the manor’s rooftop!”

“And the hammer is the same as the one that was missing from the toolbox,” Kiibo said quietly, pointedly looking away from Iruma’s avatar.

“What’s this cell phone thing?” Harukawa gingerly picked it up between two fingers, as if it were a smelly sock. Saihara fought the urge to giggle. _So Maki can handle grenades, knives, guns, and bombs, but not a 2007-era looking flip phone?_

A lightbulb went off in Saihara’s head. _Flip phone… phone. In this world, the only phone is… _He called out to Harukawa. “Lemme see that for a second, Maki.”

“Shuichi?” Harukawa turned around, flip phone still in hand.

“I think I might know what it’s used for,” Saihara explained. Harukawa gave it to him. Then, he turned and asked: “Kaito, can you come here please?” Momota, who had been inspecting the lattice and swatting away at Ouma, perked up at this and came over.

“Ya needed me, sidekick?” Momota puffed up his chest proudly. 

Saihara nodded. “Testing something.” He opened the flip phone hesitantly, pressing it to his ear.

“Well, don’t take forever!” Momota grinned. “Whenever you’re ready!”

Saihara opened his mouth, speaking into the phone. “Momota Kaito.”

“Huh? Wait, wha-- GYAAAH!” Momota let out a shriek he was logged out against his will.

_‘Gyaaah’..._

But with this, Saihara’s hypothesis was right. The flip phone had a purpose similar to the normal phone in the manor-- logging someone out. Only this time, you could log out from any other location, and you could log others out too…

_It has to be part of Iruma-san’s botched murder plan. This, the hammer, and the fact that she, along with all these other things, is classified as an object--!_

“So what was the point of all this?” Ouma yawned. “Aside from us learning yet again that Momota-chan’s an idiot.”

Harukawa wrinkled her nose. “He’s not _that _much of one.”

“We get it, Harumaki-chan,” Ouma fluttered his lashes. “You’re in looooooove.” He giggled, twirling his hair. “So am I, y’know? But be careful, because if you ignore your crush’s stupidity, you’ll be in a wooorld of hurt later, okay?”

Yumeno made gagging noises.

Saihara decided to ignore what was probably an implied insult to himself. “Let’s go back to the manor,” he said at last. “I think…” He shook his head. “This _is_ all that there is. Let’s go.”

“Okay?” Kiibo said, perplexed.

“There’s still some things that don’t make total sense to me,” Saihara continued, already walking, “but with everyone’s help in the trial, I know I’ll be able to understand it eventually.”

Ouma was quiet. Harukawa, Kiibo, and Yumeno smiled.

Saihara turned around to face them, smiling back. “Everything will make sense. We can uncover the truth together.”

=

_Freaking asshole, logging me out like that-- that’s so humiliating! And for what-- what did Shuichi even figure out? I barely even got to investigate! He doesn’t say anything or cooperate much at all and just hogs all the leadership and attention--_

When everyone else got back to the manor, they were in for a very upset Momota Kaito indeed. His chibi avatar was bright red, brows furrowed angrily with a huge irritation symbol over his head.

“Hey, Shuichi!” Momota growled the second the manor’s front door opened.

Saihara had the decency to look embarrassed and a little mortified. “A-Ah… Kaito. I--”

“What was that?! What happened an’ whaddidja do that for, huh?!” Momota hurled a barrage of questions at him. _“Huh?!”_

“Calm down,” Harukawa sighed. “The cell phone can log people out no matter where either person is. You can log out other people with it.”

“It’s probably how you got logged out in the middle of the first session while you were still on the manor’s roof,” Saihara added. Then, for good measure: “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it, Kaito…”

Momota huffed. “Freakin’... y’all have no idea how scary that was. Shirogane nearly had a heart attack seein’ ma face back in the computer lab. Gonta an’ that pink bear scolded me for scarin’ a ‘patient’ or whatever the hell they were doin’, an’--” He sighed. “Don’t do it again!”

“I won’t,” Saihara promised. “Ah, but we more or less figured stuff out, so I think it’s safe to go back.”

“Y--” Momota was stunned. And honestly? Part of him felt crestfallen. _He did it all by himself again…_ “You did?”

Kiibo nodded. “I understand it myself, too. Somehow…”

Yumeno shrugged. “I don’t get it much, but as long as he leads us in the trial, we should be alright.”

(Momota tried and failed not to flinch at that.)

Ouma yawned. “I don’t care about this one way or another.” He pumped his fists, suddenly cheerful. “Just kidding! That was a lie! I love this killing game, so this investigation’s been super thrilling!”

“We should go,” Harukawa said, already making her way to log out. 

“Okay…” Momota followed the others to the room with the phone. 

_I’m not leading them at all. At this rate… what kind of pathetic hero am I?_

_Forget heroes… If I can’t carry out what Akamatsu wanted and what I swore to do, what kind of man even am I?_

_And why is it Shuichi, who I helped and led before… Why is it him who’s suddenly taken on my role now?!_

“Momota Kaito,” Momota said into the receiver, a disappointed and bitter jealousy suddenly blooming in his chest as he logged out for a fourth time and re-manifested again in the real world.

(Or maybe that was just the sudden resurgence of his lung illness.)

=

Ouma logged out last again, but this time did not call out to Saihara before the latter logged out.

_He knows. He knows. He knows--_

As he shakily held up the receiver and spoke his name into it, Ouma wondered why the game he was trying so hard to adapt to just wasn’t feeling all that fun anymore, no matter what lies he told himself.

=

As everyone finally arrived back in the computer lab, a bell tone rang. _“Attention, students! The investigation period has ended. Please make your way to the fountain in the courtyard to go to the trial room. The investigation period has ended!”_

There was no fanfare, no declarations of ‘let’s go to the trial room’. By now, everyone was tired and used to it. 

While everyone walked, Saihara bit his lip. _Everything’s ready. The evidence… and for some reason, everyone trusts me more to direct them in the trial and lead them all to the truth, so I have to do my job right this time! _

They all reached the courtyard, then the statues and the elevator itself, and shuttled downwards. Each time, the elevator was lighter and emptier. It was a sickening feeling, realizing just how many people had died…

_After this, no more deaths, _Saihara thought to himself. The elevator stopped, and its doors opened as he closed his eyes.

_I swear it! _

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be a **double update** on **Friday** instead of Thursday. I've been anticipating the day where I get to post this particular chapter's trial segments for a very long time now, so please look forward to it!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories, chitchatting, or just getting live notifications on when the fic updates, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	32. 4-6. The Fourth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One friendship severs; by amnesia on one end and paranoia on the other.
> 
> Another friendship clashes; by jealousy on one side, hypocrisy on the second, and futility on the third.
> 
> Relationships fall further and further into disarray, at last torn apart by a fourth verdict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no trigger warnings here but please note that this chapter is uhhhhh PRETTY EMOTIONAL. LOTS OF ANGST AND YELLING AND STRAINED TIES. oof!!!!!
> 
> on another note, this trial in the canon game was an absolute mind-numbing pain to even watch through. they spent SO much time going in circles and talking back-and-forth about stuff until they got to the world looping. hopefully the way this is written makes it a bit better than that ;;;
> 
> also: THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE!! don't forget to read the chapter after this. if you're coming from chapter 33, this is where you should start to read the trial!
> 
> without further ado.... :') trial time!

They all settled into their trial stands as Monokuma explained the rules once again.

Too many of the trial stands were replaced with those goddamn picture frames-- sepia toned, smiling photos of their friends, their faces ripped into by mocking, bright red X’s, all personalized ever so slightly for them.

(If Ouma’s heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely was now, knowing that by the end of the trial he’d also be reduced to just another portrait.)

“So, Monokuma,” Ouma tilted his head curiously, making his voice childish and innocent. “I’ve been wondering this for a while now, ever since the last trial, but… is it possible for there to be two blackeneds at once?”

Monokuma shook his head, grinning. “Nope! It’s perfectly possible to have an accomplice, but only the person who actually did the killing is the blackened. That being said, with two different culprits, the killer of the first body to be discovered is the person who becomes the blackened, regardless of the actual timings of the murders.”

“Hmmm… Okay!” Ouma grinned. “Oooh, but what if there’s two first places after voting? Since there isn’t a lot of us left, there’s gotta be a higher likelihood of a tie, right?”

“As long as one of them is correct, it’s fine,” Monokuma replied.

“Daddy, is this really okay?” Monotaro furrowed his brows. “I… Don’t really like the idea of this anymore…”

“Don’t be a baby,” Monophanie elbowed him, eyes gleaming, and Ouma fought back the stench of antiseptic just listening to her grinding voice. “Just shut up and watch.”

=

“Okay, then! Welp! I think Momota-chan’s the culprit!” Ouma grinned breezily, putting his hands behind his head.

“Huh?!” Momota yelped. “Wh-Wh-- Why’dja think that?!”

Saihara was equally surprised at the bold accusation. Normally, Ouma was the type of person who observed, only butting in with lies or inane comments every now and then. But now, he was taking charge right from the start…

“Oh, dear…” Ouma put a scandalized hand over his mouth. “Tut, tut, Mister Astronaut. You thought you were smart, but you couldn’t fool me!” He pointed dramatically. “You placed that bottle of poison in my chair to frame me for the murder of our precious Iruma-chan!”

“Not quite,” Saihara interrupted. “Do you remember the label of the poison bottle?”

“Yeah, _Saihara-chan,” _Ouma stuck his tongue out at the detective. “It said that it causes asphyxiation, which according to the Monopads_ is_ the cause of death.”

Harukawa shook her head. “I see where Shuichi’s going with this. Iruma did asphyxiate, and the poison did say that it causes choking, but there’s also--”

“The fact that the wrapper was found in Momota-chan’s chair,” Ouma declared. He beamed. “Well then, let’s all vote! Nishishi… This was a pretty easy case, don’tcha think?”

Harukawa glowered at him. “No.” She sighed. “There’s _side effects._ Namely, that you get bloodshot eyes.”

“Huh--” Momota faltered, eyes wide and expression strangely empty. “I… didn’t know that…”

“And Iruma-san’s body didn’t have bloodshot eyes, so she wasn’t killed with poison,” Kiibo summarized. 

“Not true,” Ouma tapped his fingers impatiently on his trial stand. “That’s just what Momota-chan wants you to think! Side effects for medicines don’t happen to everyone. Just because the label says bloodshot eyes doesn’t mean Iruma-chan absolutely must have gotten them.” He sneered, looking positively devilish. “Besides, Momota-chan… you were logged out in the middle for a short period of time, weren’t you? That’s when you poisoned her, wasn’t it?”

Momota opened his mouth to interrupt, but Saihara decided to save them from the inevitable argument between those two. “While that’s true, there’s plenty more evidence that it wasn’t the poison.”

“Oh?” Ouma looked at his nails. “Do tell.”

It was Yumeno who spoke up. “There’s a difference between ‘asphyxiation’ and ‘choking’, isn’t there?”

“That’s right,” Saihara narrowed his eyes. “Choking is just one of the many types of asphyxiation. If the poison really did block her airways, then the Monopads would’ve specified that she was choked.”

“What, so you think she was strangled instead?” Ouma scoffed.

“I never said that,” Saihara said quietly, coolly. “But if _you_ think it’s feasible, Ouma-kun, then by all accounts we have other perfectly logical possibilities to explore. There are many different ways Iruma-san could’ve been asphyxiated… Therefore, we can’t vote for Kaito as the killer just based off the poison bottle.”

Ouma looked rather like a deer in headlights, but a lot more irritated. Perhaps a moose in headlights? Or a particularly angered alpaca? Saihara had never interacted with either of those animals before, but he decided he rather liked the metaphor.

“Thanks, Shuichi…” Momota said hollowly. 

“Ah--” Saihara paused. “No prob…” _I don’t particularly need him to sound grateful or anything, but why is he so off these days…?_

“You’re doing good, Saihara,” Yumeno nodded her approval. “At this rate, we’ll get to the culprit lickety-split!”

“P-People actually still say phrases like that?” Shirogane blinked, sweating.

“Anyway…” Harukawa bit her thumbnail. “As for the cause of death, strangulation is most likely.”

“Harukawa-san is probably right, then,” Gonta furrowed his brows. “As an assassin, she would know…”

“There were those marks on her neck, plus the way she was clawing at it,” Harukawa continued. “If she was choking, she’d be _squeezing_ her throat to get something out from the inside; not just trying to grab or scratch something externally.”

Saihara blinked, surprised. _That… makes a lot of sense._

“So she was strangled…” Kiibo took in a deep breath. “Alright. Then what was used to strangle her?” he asked. “There wasn’t rope or anything in the virtual world…”

“The toilet paper roll we found outside the manor,” Saihara said firmly. “That’s the only explanation.”

“Yeah…” Yumeno agreed.

“What?” Gonta exclaimed, utterly perplexed. “No, that must be wrong! Gonta can’t ignore that!” He furrowed his brows, actually looking annoyed. “Saihara-kun, that’s bad logic! Toilet paper would break too easily!”

“In the real world, yes,” Saihara explained calmly. “But in the virtual world, where Iruma-san was probably killed, objects can’t break, including toilet paper. It would’ve been easy for the culprit to use it as a rope and strangle her.”

“H-Huh…?” Gonta blinked. “Oh…” He sighed. “Gonta doesn’t know this stuff… All he did was sleep, so he doesn’t really know…”

“Just stay out of it, why don’t you,” Ouma quipped. Saihara ignored it.

“So what about the hammer?” Momota demanded, finally getting a word in. “What was the point of that being placed by her body, huh?”

“It wasn’t placed by the culprit or anything like that,” Saihara explained. He bit his lip. “Rather… Iruma-san was planning to use it for a murder of her own.”

“What?!” Gonta looked stunned; Shirogane gasped dramatically, putting two hands over her mouth.

“That does make sense,” Kiibo nodded. “When Monotaro hacked into the virtual world, he did say that Ouma-kun’s avatar was the only one that was set up to freeze…”

“...And the only one who could’ve done that was Iruma,” Yumeno sighed. “Besides, it was in the toolbox on the chapel side, anyway. Harukawa, Kiibo, and I were always together, and I know none of us took it, so it had to have been her.”

“Th-Then who was she trying to kill?” Shirogane asked.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara and Kiibo both replied at the same time. 

=

_What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?! Saihara’s talking his way out of my distractions too much-- when did he get so reliable?!_

_This is going too fast. They’re figuring too much out, and too quickly. At this rate, I’ll definitely die… They’re all trying to hurry this up so they can kill me!_

_Even if the blackened for this case is only Gonta, they’ll definitely find a way to--_

=

“But they were on opposite sides,” Harukawa frowned. “Ouma was supposed to be in the manor, and Iruma was on the chapel side… so how would she kill him inside the virtual world with just a hammer?”

“M-Maybe she called him to meet up somewhere?” Shirogane suggested.

“So to summarize…” Kiibo bit his lip. “Iruma-san programmed Ouma-kun’s avatar so that it would freeze when she specifically touched him. She brought the hammer and asked Ouma-kun to meet up so that she could use it to kill him in the virtual world itself.”

_Meaning I was right that she was planning something bad, but I was wrong about her choice in victim… _Saihara sighed._ In hindsight, I should’ve known better_.

“B-But then why was the poison bottle in Ouma’s seat?” Momota demanded. “And why was the plastic wrap for it in _mine?”_

“Because you’re the killer, of course!” Ouma grinned.

“No,” Saihara shook his head. “It’s because Iruma-san put them both there respectively. She was planning to frame you, Kaito.”

Momota coughed. “Wh-- yeah, I knew that, Shuichi! It was just... a rhetorical… question…”

“That does make sense, but how did Kaito log out in the middle of the session?” Harukawa asked. “He was on the manor’s roof, wasn’t he?”

“Y-Yeah! Actually--” Momota puffed up his chest. “Even if Iruma was plannin’ on killin’ Ouma, there’s no absolute proof that she was the one who put the poison and the wrapper!”

“No, there was,” Saihara insisted. “Remember the login and logout records? Iruma-san was the last person to log in. While we were all immersed in the virtual world, she probably put the poison and the wrapper in the respective places they were found, and then logged in.”

“W-Well--” Momota took to Saihara’s words almost like a challenge, furrowing his brows. “Then how did I get logged out in the middle ‘a the session?!”

“I proved it back during the investigation, right?” Saihara blinked. “The cell phone. It worked regardless of location, and you could log out people other than yourself. She probably used that to log you out.”

“But why Momota specifically?” Yumeno asked. “Was it… because she planned to meet Ouma on the roof?”

Everyone looked at Ouma.

Ouma scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Saihara-chan assigned me to the salon, right? And Gonta was there, too. I didn’t go to the roof at all.”

Gonta fidgeted. “Gonta… doesn’t know… He doesn’t remember…”

_That’s weird. _Saihara frowned. _Ouma-kun’s remarks are lacking their usual bite… And Gonta-kun seems a lot more confused and helpless than he normally does._ “It’s true that I assigned both of you two to the salon… But technically, as long as you were on the manor side, it’s fully possible that you went to the roof.”

“Hey, yeah--” Momota interrupted again, stifling a particularly nasty cough into his elbow. “How’d Iruma get to the manor side, anyway? She was on the chapel side, and she tossed the sign we used as a bridge into the river!”

“We didn’t see her going to the bridge,” Harukawa said. “‘We’ referring to me, Yumeno, and Kiibo.”

“I think I remember seeing her going outside to the opposite side, though…” Yumeno pondered aloud. “But that was where the world was supposed to end. Like, its boundaries and stuff.”

Kiibo bit his lip. “I think the object classification thing can explain it, then.”

“What, Iruma-chan magically transporting from one side of her little world to the other?” Ouma asked.

“Technology is a different kind of magic,” Yumeno beamed, pulling out a rabbit from her hat.

“Put that thing back, Yumeno-chan. Nobody wants to see or smell rabbit shit all over the trial room floor,” Ouma sniffed. 

“Usa-chan isn’t a ‘thing’,” Yumeno pouted, scooping up the bunny in her arms and putting it back into her hat. “And it’s just us and the bears here anyway...”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Ouma muttered half under his breath.

“What was that?” Yumeno asked.

“I said you’re a dumb midget and your bunny stinks.”

“H-Hey, take that back!”

“Let’s focus,” Momota grumbled. “Get back on topic.”

“Yeah,” Saihara added, grimacing. “We don’t have that much time, anyway…”

“ANYWAY,” Momota spoke over him. “Kiibo, you were sayin’?”

“R-Right…” Kiibo looked at Momota carefully, as if gauging his mood before continuing. “The difference in how Iruma-san’s avatar was classified is probably because she wanted to go from one end of the map to the other.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Saihara tried to clarify, “there must’ve been a secret or hidden route that only Iruma-san could’ve gone across…?”

“Don’t be naive, Shuichi!” Momota furrowed his brows, determined. “She isn’t just an object!”

_“She_ wasn’t,” Saihara fired back, “but_ her avatar _was classified as one.”

“There’s one thing that still bothers me,” Harukawa interrupted. “How all those other objects came to be with her. If she logged Kaito out with the phone and took the hammer, that’s one thing, but the lattice was from the manor. How did being classified as an object help her get to the other side?”

“It’s a coding thing,” Kiibo waved his hand dismissively. “Remember the signboard? The river flowed only to one direction, with the chapel on one end and the manor on the other. According to the map in the manor, the cut point in the virtual world was the river, but that’s wrong. The sign was found on the manor’s side, which can only mean--”

“Slow down,” Gonta bit his lip. “Gonta doesn’t get it. What… What are you all talking about? Gonta doesn’t know or remember this! Where is this river?”

“The one in the virtual world,” Shirogane explained with a sigh. “I’ve repeated this before…”

“Yeah, Gonta,” Yumeno sighed. 

“The signboard flowed against the current, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara knit his brows. “But how could that…”

“Haven’t you guys ever played old-school videogames before?” Kiibo interrupted.

A headache spread in Saihara’s head; he grit his teeth. Surprisingly, Shirogane also touched her head, startled. “What… What do you--”

“Don’t you get it?” Kiibo demanded. “Upstream and downstream connect. The world _loops.”_

At that point, Monokuma interrupted. “Here’s a visual for you guys in case you’re confused!”

“Oh…” Yumeno’s eyes widened as her eyes scanned the image. “Oh! The reason Iruma only put up one wall is because it’s the same wall to start with!”

“And the loop point is the line in the middle,” Saihara finally understood.

“What loop point? Line in the middle?” Gonta furrowed his brows. “Gonta doesn’t know what any of this is!”

“So that means--” Shirogane started, interrupting Gonta. “Saihara-kun, that big crashing noise we heard--”

“Yeah,” Saihara replied. “The reason that noise was so loud makes sense now. It was Iruma-san’s avatar and all the other stuff crashing into the side of the chapel, which in reality was right next to our side of the manor.”

“So how’d it crash, huh?” Ouma pondered. “Did she jump?”

“No…” Saihara paused. _He’s smarter than this, so why is he offering all these clearly wrong guesses? And more than he usually does?_ “No. You said so yourself while we were investigating, right, Ouma-kun? She slid off. Like she was using a sled…”

=

Fuck. Ouma had totally forgotten that he’d said that.

He kept his face blank, but his thumping, racing heart couldn’t lie like his face could. _Leading myself to my own demise, huh... _

_“Slid off_ like a sled?” Momota scoffed. “There was nothin’ around that was sled-like!”

“The lattice was,” Saihara countered. “Our avatars and the other objects were small enough that they could all be put on the lattice and pushed off the roof.”

“In other words, it’s guaranteed that Iruma was on the rooftop of the manor,” Harukawa said smoothly. She narrowed her eyes, gaze changing to directly face Ouma. “Which means there’s a liar amongst us.”

Ouma only grinned as the others all turned to him like predators to prey.

“You lied, Ouma-kun,” Saihara said with certainty. “You said you never met Iruma-san at the roof, but that was a lie.”

“Thanks for the verbatim memory refresher, Captain Obvious,” Ouma smirked. “But it wasn’t a lie at all! You assigned me to the salon, my beloved Saihara-chan. And out of my great respect and love for you, I stayed there the whole time!”

_There,_ Ouma thought, venom in his thoughts. _Take that. How are you going to respond? How will the audience react? You have no way to counter it with that stupid little truth and trust of yours, Saihara Shuichi._

_You have no way of proving that I was or wasn’t there._

=

_I have to lie, _Saihara realized. _Naturally, it’s obvious that Ouma-kun could be telling the truth… But if we really want to uncover the culprit, I have to lie!_

_But Kaito and Maki dislike him, and Kaito especially seems like he’s in a bad mood for some reason, so I can’t use the hair twirling signal now… _

“No, you weren’t,” Saihara blinked, a small, performative smile gracing his face as he turned to his accomplice, unbeknownst to them. “I actually went to the salon to check, and you weren’t there.”

“You can’t verify that,” Ouma seethed.

“Yes, I can,” Saihara continued smiling. “After all, I was investigating with someone who knew where I was the whole time... Right, Shirogane-san?”

=

Shirogane could practically hear her favorite detective’s thoughts this second. ‘_Please take the bait’, _or something like that.

Saihara _was_ a fabulous liar, courtesy of his fictional parents’ careers, but was cursed to not be a good actor thanks to the backstory Shirogane had cooked up for him. Really, what sort of person in real life got an inexplicable urge to puke whenever he told lies too big, or told too many consecutively?

Of course, this was Shirogane’s stage, and Shirogane’s writing, so Saihara wouldn’t puke in the middle of a trial, but still… Having an all-rounder detective who was good at lying wouldn’t be as fun or as good, symbolically speaking.

(And either way, most of the others including Shirogane were just as good at acting and hiding their true feelings til the end, so they had their bases covered.)

_I have my own role to play, Saihara. You may be my absolute favorite creation aside from Kiibo, but you’ll have to go through my character’s skepticism a bit before I back you up. Consider it my way of teasing you._

“H-Huh?” Shirogane stuttered. “Oh, hm…” She looked up at the ceiling, furrowing her brows and biting her lip as if to look thoughtful and skeptical. “I-I’m not quite sure… I was pretty busy in the dining hall…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a bead of sweat on Saihara’s forehead, rolling down.

_...How cute. Don’t worry, though. As your <strike>friend</strike> creator, I’m on your side whether you lie or not…_

“Oh! I do remember now!” Shirogane brightened, hands clasping. “I-I was nervous, but Saihara-kun’s super reliable, so I remember what he did! He went to the salon to check, but told me Ouma-kun wasn’t there and that it was weird!”

“Really?” Momota blinked, surprised.

Shirogane nodded excitedly, then held back, fidgeting. “W-Well, maybe…? My memory’s a bit… well, I’m not totally sure since a lot happened, but... it’s Saihara-kun, you know?” 

Momota stared. “Uh-huh…”

“It’s Saihara-kun,” Shirogane repeated with a smile. “So I trust him!”

“In that case, I trust it too,” Yumeno said.

“Same,” Harukawa replied.

“G-Gonta does too… He thinks…?” Gonta grimaced

“I do as well,” Kiibo said softly.

Momota folded his arms in front of his chest. “Yeah.” 

=

Saihara… honestly hadn’t anticipated for Shirogane to completely and utterly go along with the lie, especially without any prior cues or prompting. Frankly, he was still half confused on if she was going along with the lie or had genuinely forgotten whether he had or hadn’t done such a thing. 

Regardless, however, he was grateful.

“There you go,” he said, smile fading. “Ouma-kun. You did go to the roof. Admit it!”

=

Ouma grit his teeth.

_Both of these motherfuckers are lying, and now they’ve gotten everyone on their side, all scheming and trying to kill me--_

“You’ve got some balls trying to lie to _me, _Saihara-chan,” Ouma spat, frenzied. _Calm down calm down calm down--_ “Fuck it, I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Huh?” Saihara looked surprised, as if he_ hadn’t_ been planning this from the start. “Ouma-kun, what--”

“For ruining this game and taking away my fun,” Ouma sneered, “I’ll do the same to you, Mister Ultimate Detective. How about that?”

“Wha-- What do you mean?!” Saihara looked seriously frazzled for once, a look he hadn’t shown since his vulnerability all the way back in the first trial. 

It filled Ouma with a smug, petty sense of superiority. _Good. _“Now, then…” Ouma began nonchalantly. “The killer was Gonta.”

It must’ve been tough for the others to digest, because for at least a moment and a half, the trial room was pin-drop silent.

_“What?!” _Gonta’s face contorted into an expression of pure terror and shock. “No, Gonta didn’t--” He shook his head frantically. “Gonta didn’t kill Iruma-san!”

_“You’ve_ got some fuckin’ balls tryin’ ta lie ta us about the fact that you prolly killed her!” Momota roared. “Accusin’ Gonta, of all people? Are ya fuckin’ kidding me? Come off it!”

“I- I can’t believe it either!” Shirogane shook her head. “Ouma-kun, p-please don’t say things like that!”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno grit her teeth. “No way am I believing that the killer was Gonta over someone more scheming like you!”

“I’m more inclined to believe all of them over you,” Harukawa said coldly. “Especially considering some of the shit you’ve pulled before.”

“Really?” Ouma looked at his nails, giggling quietly. Then, his giggles grew louder, turning to wheezy laughter. “Well, too bad for you guys then, huh?! Joke’s on you! I was working behind the scenes with Monokuma the whole fucking time!”

“No,” Saihara said, eyes wide.

“Yes,” Ouma smirked. _The gears in his head are finally turning. _

“No, everyone…” Kiibo knit his brows and took in a deep breath. “Ouma-kun isn’t lying.”

“It’s possible,” Saihara whispered at last. “You guys… it’s possible for Gonta-kun to be the culprit.”

“Hmm,” Monokuma interrupted, a gleam in his eye. “Seems like you’re all split! You know what that means!”

Monophanie cheered as the music began playing; Monotaro looked dubious. “Scrum! Scrum! Scrum! Scrum!”

**“Could Gokuhara Gonta have been the killer?”** Monokuma asked. “It’s up to you guys to debate! GO!”

“Shuichi,” Momota growled, “are you saying that Gonta’s the culprit?!”

“All I’m saying,” Saihara said, brows knit, “is that based on his lack of an alibi, he could be.”

“B-But Gonta is such a sweetheart,” Shirogane stuttered. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“Being a ‘sweetheart’ doesn’t mean you can’t kill people, Shirogane-chan,” Ouma sneered, a wild grin on his face. “Or did you forget about all our friends who murdered people before?!”

“Could Gonta have even made it to the rooftop without being noticed?” Harukawa demanded.

“Yes,” Kiibo replied. “Technically, anyone on the manor side of the map should’ve been able to.”

“Bullshit!” Momota roared. “There shoulda been witnesses ‘n the entry hall!”

“No, there weren’t,” Saihara gripped his trial stand, agitated. “Shirogane-san and I were in the dining hall, you were on the roof until you were logged out, and Ouma-kun and Gonta-kun were assigned to the salon. None of us three were in the entry hall, so your argument that it could’ve only been Ouma-kun is wrong! Gonta-kun_ could have_ slipped through!”

“But Ouma confessed that he was working with Monokuma, didn’t he?” Yumeno asked.

“Monokuma’s rules for the killing game states that he can’t directly interfere in the murders,” Ouma said nonchalantly. “My cooperating with him doesn’t necessarily mean that I was the killer.”

“IT’S ALL A LIE,” Momota’s mouth twisted, angry. “OUMA WAS THE ONE WHO KILLED IRUMA--”

“You can’t say that without absolute proof, Momota-kun,” Kiibo grit his teeth. “As much as it pains me, there_ is_ a chance that it wasn’t him. You can’t jump to conclusions because of your own feelings!”

“Gonta didn’t kill Iruma-san!” Gonta cried. “Honest!”

“Even with that declaration, there is a possibility that you did, Gonta-kun,” Saihara said, chagrined. “And as long as that possibility exists, _we can’t be biased and vote for Ouma-kun yet!”_

=

And for Momota, really, that was the breaking point. 

All that investigating and leading and condescending explaining through the entire investigation and trial-- making him feel stupid, always knowing what’s right and what’s going on and constantly correcting him--

And now? Now Saihara was so focused on this trial that he was ignoring even his _other _friends, willing to believe an asshole liar like Ouma over a comrade to be trusted like Gonta.

_Unbe-fucking-lieveable._

“You’re outta yer fuckin’ mind if ya think Gonta’s really the culprit over someone as shady as Ouma,” Momota yelled, slamming his fist against his trial stand. _“Shuichi!”_

=

“Kaito?” Saihara asked, incredulous. “Why’re you yelling at me?!”

“You--” Momota pointed decisively at Ouma. “You’re a big fuckin’ liar. So what if Gonta was also assigned the salon room? So what if Shuichi or Shirogane saw you or not? The fact is, you were the only one who could gain from this shit! You coulda just kept stranglin’ her, no problem!”

“No, he couldn’t have!” Saihara raised his voice, and Ouma himself winced at the volume. “His avatar was set so that it’d freeze if Iruma-san touched him. That means that if he was the one who first came into contact with Iruma-san, he’d still freeze!”

Momota’s breathing was heavy. Then, he laughed. “Ha… So that’s how it is to ya, huh? Huh?! Yer willin’ to believe a liar like him over one of our friends?! What happened to trust and friendship?! About bein’ a man?!”

“W-Well what about you?” Saihara asked, voice growing louder. “You were the one who said you’d support my desire to uncover the truth after Kaede died!”_ Is this why he’s been constantly trying to talk over me?_

“That was as long as you were actually helpin’ us survive,” Momota sneered. “But now it’s become some big ego project, like you’re steppin’ up and doin’ us all a favor leading everyone through trials and investigations! Just ‘cause you’re the _detective!”_

“That’s so baseless!” Saihara furrowed his brows, actually getting ticked off. “Isn’t that just how you personally feel? Aren’t you just projecting on me?! Being so stubborn and getting upset and trying to talk over me or interrupt me whenever I do something-- I don’t see it as an ego project at all! It’s just that if we want people to survive, we have to work together--”

“WHO’S WORKIN’ TOGETHER?” Momota shouted, voice scratchy. “HUH? BECAUSE THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME, SHUICHI, IT’S BEEN MOSTLY YOU TALKING!”

“SO WHAT?!” Saihara shouted back, tears forming in his eyes. _It hurts more when it comes from a friend--_ “MAYBE THAT’S THE CASE, I DON’T KNOW! THERE’S NEVER BEEN ANY RULE SAYING THAT WE ALL HAVE TO TALK EQUALLY, JUST THAT WE HAVE TO FIGURE THINGS OUT WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT! I’M TRYING AS BEST AS I CAN TO SAVE EVERYONE!”

Ouma looked at his nails in disinterest, even though Saihara could've _sworn_ he'd just been having something reminiscent of a panic attack mere minutes before. "Look, guys, we're in the middle of a trial right now, and we're also running out of time each second this continues, so if you two could just wrap up your little lover's spat here--"

"IT'S NOT A LOVER'S SPAT," Saihara and Momota both yelled at him, equally angry at each other. Ouma held up his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Kay, kay, sheesh," he muttered. “No need to be so brazen about it.”

Saihara whipped around to face Momota, returning to their screaming match from earlier.

“YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN WISHY-WASHY,” Momota accused. “ALWAYS QUIET AND THINKING ANALYTICAL, LOOKIN’ AT THIS SHIT ALL SCIENTIFIC LIKE IT’S JUST SOME BIG POSSIBILITY INSTEAD OF ONE OF OUR FRIENDS OR ACTUAL HUMAN LIVES--”

_IT HURTS MORE WHEN IT COMES FROM--_

“I _HAVE_ TO LOOK AT IT THAT WAY,” Saihara screamed back, anguished. “WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO I HAVE?! OR DO YOU ACTUALLY _WANT ME_ TO JUST BREAK DOWN SOBBING AT EVERY TRIAL, CRYING WHILE I EXPLAIN ALL THE DETAILS ABOUT WHICH FRIEND KILLED THE OTHER FRIEND THIS TIME AROUND?!”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno shook, a little scared. “Y-You two, stop fighting…”

“P-Please….” Shirogane nodded fearfully, agreeing. “This isn’t right!”

Harukawa sucked in a breath. “I’ll admit that I understand Kaito’s point of view, but--”

“UGH-- COME _ON,_ MAKI!” Saihara yelled, knuckles white as he gripped his trial stand, brows furrowed in angry, upset betrayal. “YOU_ ALWAYS _TAKE KAITO’S SIDE! YOU _ALWAYS_ SAY HE’S RIGHT WITHOUT A SINGLE SECOND THOUGHT--” 

“Wha--” Harukawa furrowed her brows, angry. “What the fuck?! I do not! Don’t drag _me_ into this, I’m trying to help you guys!”

“YES, YOU DO!” Saihara yelled back. “IT’S LIKE I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO’S--” He choked, cutting himself off before he could say anything else he’d regret. Saihara panted, breathing heavy and visibly disturbed as he ran a hand through his hair, allowing shaky fingers to comb it.

“Who’s what?” Harukawa narrowed her eyes.

“Just-- I care about you guys, I trust you and love you both, I really do, but--” Saihara gnashed his teeth together. “It’s so fucking _hard_ being the one who everyone says is reliable, the detective who solves everything and can never prevent these deaths-- it’s so hard trying to piece things together and uncover the truth at every trial when practically _nobody else _aside from Kiibo-kun is willing to look at things objectively!” his voice turned shrill towards the end.

“That doesn’t mean you get to accuse me of favoritism,” Harukawa’s gaze turned dark. “All I’m saying is that I get where Kaito’s coming from, not that one of you is right or wrong--”

“ENOUGH!” Kiibo snapped, eyes glowing a dangerous turquoise. “ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP AND GET BACK ON TOPIC!”

Everyone froze, then settled back into silence.

“You don’t get to yell at Maki for anything when you’re the one accusin’ Gonta of killing Iruma with no evidence,” Momota finally muttered.

Gonta trembled. “Gonta’s sorry,” he whispered.

“Huh?” The sound came out of Saihara’s mouth before he could even think about it.

“Gonta’s sorry… He doesn’t know!” Gonta cried out. “Gonta doesn’t know anything about this ver-chew-ul thing, or rivers or walls or toilet paper or manors or chapels! He doesn’t get it! Gonta’s sorry for being so stupid, but-- this whole time, all that happened was that it was dark and then he woke up and Iruma-san was dead!”

“We can explain it as many times as we need to,” Kiibo said soothingly, all traces of his earlier anger and turquoise light having vanished. “It’s okay to be confused, alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” Yumeno hid her eyes behind her hat. “Gonta, it’s okay--”

“When will you quit lying, Gonta?!” Ouma cackled, a mad, furious grin on his face. “Face it! It was you! You were the one who strangled her from behind even after that stupid proposition! It was you who got the lattice and put all that stuff on it and shoved it down that sloped roof so she’d fall right back to the chapel!” Ouma was practically shrieking. “Shut up with your stupid lies and at least admit what you did now that you’re cornered!”

Gonta began crying in earnest. “Gonta really doesn’t know! Everything was just dark! He doesn’t remember!”

=

_My time to shine now._

“Wait,” Shirogane’s voice rang clear in the trial room. Her eyes were wide.

_After all, the audience would get suspicious of me if I never talked during trials or presented serious evidence, wouldn’t they? Some people are too smart for their own good when it comes to predicting TV show plots..._

“G-Gonta-kun,” Shirogane gulped. “Didn’t you say, while the others were investigating… You told me that you ‘didn’t remember’, right?” Shirogane was sure to make air quotes. “And that it all just felt like a dream that you had no recollection of…”

Gonta nodded carefully. 

“You said,” Shirogane licked her lips, and_ the vocal delivery of this next part would be crucial, so she couldn’t mess up. _“You said that there was a message on the helmet when you woke up. ‘AVATAR ERROR’.”

Saihara’s head snapped back up. “‘Avatar error’?” he repeated.

_It appears my darling Sherlock has realized… _Shirogane’s glasses gleamed._ I can exit the stage now._

=

Mm,” Gonta nodded. “He saw that on the helmet, then when he took it off, Kiibo-kun and some others were around Iruma-san and she was dead and he was--” Gonta bit his lip. “--crying.”

With a hollow heart, Saihara suddenly realized just how and why Gonta had forgotten.

“Iruma-san said it, didn’t she,” Saihara spoke gravely. “That if you mix up the wires, there will be some sleep-related consequences.”

“Huh?” Ouma froze.

“Gonta-kun,” Saihara said. “You plugged the wires into the wrong places of your helmet and got memory loss.”

“Memory loss…?” Gonta whispered.

“Th-That can’t be!” Yumeno protested. “I was telling Gonta right before, right is the hand you use with chopsticks and pencils!”

“Gonta uses this hand for that, though,” Gonta said, holding up his left hand.

The room split with tension.

“Oh,” Yumeno finally whimpered. “Oh my god…”

“You plugged it in wrong and lost all your memories of what happened in the virtual world,” Saihara confirmed. “That’s why you’ve been confused this whole time-- saying that you don’t remember, or don’t understand, or that it doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re that desperate, huh,” Momota knit his brows. “Well, even if Gonta lost his memories, that doesn’t mean he killed Iruma.” He grit his teeth. “Ouma. Was on. The rooftop.”

“Let’s do process of elimination again,” Saihara said. Momota looked like he wanted to argue, but Saihara held up a hand. “Please…”

Momota let him talk.

“It can’t be Kiibo-kun, Yumeno-san, or Maki because they were all on the chapel side,” Saihara began, holding up three fingers. “It also can’t be you, Kaito, because you were logged out. Iruma-san did that so that the rooftop would be freed up.” Four fingers. “And it wasn’t Shirogane-san or myself, because we both have each other’s alibis.” Six fingers.

“Which leaves Ouma and Gonta remaining,” Momota’s voice was low and his nose wrinkled in annoyance. “And of those two, it was Ouma.”

“It couldn’t have been Ouma-kun,” Saihara rose his voice again. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? It couldn’t have been Ouma-kun because his avatar was set so that it would freeze if he came into contact with Iruma-san. The only person who could’ve killed her was Gonta-kun!”

“Your logic’s all wrong!” Momota yelled again. “So what if the avatar setting was all messed up?! Ouma was on the rooftop, and that’s all that matters!”

“Gonta-kun could’ve been on the rooftop, too!” Saihara argued back. “Since both of them were assigned to the salon and nobody was in the entryway, they could’ve both gone through the stairs!”

“Then how’d Gonta supposedly_ leave_ the rooftop, huh?!” Momota yelled. “Ouma was the only one who came down the stairs inside! _There’s no way to leave the manor from the rooftop!”_

“There is,” Saihara said, voice scratchy from having yelled so much. “The toilet paper.”

“What, that rope?” Momota coughed. “There was nowhere to tie it to!”

“There was!” Saihara shouted, then let his voice fall quiet. “There was…”

Ouma’s breath hitched.

“The binoculars,” Saihara finally said. “The binoculars on the roof. Gonta-kun wrapped the toilet paper around it and used it like a rope to climb down, then tugged down the toilet paper. That’s why it was found lying outside in the manor. My guess is that all of this wasn’t Gonta-kun’s idea, but Ouma-kun’s, since Iruma-san was targeting him from the start.”

Saihara then turned, not to Gonta but to Ouma. “Am I right?”

Ouma was completely frozen.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara tried again._ There’s no way he’d be alright after this, but..._

“Just stop,” Gonta sniffled, wiping tears from his face. “Leave Ouma-kun alone… I trust you, Saihara-kun. And everyone… Gonta’s sorry for being dumb, and for causing you all to fight. Gonta’s sorry he doesn’t remember. But if this is the conclusion you came to, then… Gonta guesses it has to be right.”

His eyes welled with tears again. “Gonta’s sorry… Gonta’s sorry--!”

The voting machines rose up in front of them again, unheard over the sound of Gonta’s sobbing.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaito's jealousy and his hero complex was absolutely brilliant and I loved it, but I do wish Saihara had that extra bit of backbone to yell back at his friend in canon, if that makes sense? Like... really, now. Saihara has a strong sense of right and wrong and justice, even if he's fighting against something as morally gray as "truth vs. lies", so I wanted him to at least stand his ground even if it hurt and he didn't want to yell at his friend.
> 
> Also... Maki deserves equal representation as part of their friendship trio. I felt like the game mostly sidelined her in trials until it was time for her to get that #romanticattraction to Kaito around here and in chapter 5. Bonus fun game, try looking through previous chapters to see how many times Maki has actually said some variation of "Kaito's right" or "Momota's right". It's surprisingly often.
> 
> All in all, I sort of wanted Kaito's jealousy to start earlier and explode all at once here along with his outrage at Saihara believing that Gonta is the culprit, and I wanted Saihara to become equally emotional because of the stress put on him to uncover the truth. I hope that came through here, and I hope that it was enjoyable (and/or painful) to read!
> 
> HOWEVER :)) the pain isn't done here. This is a double update....
> 
> Onto the next chapter :'))


	33. 4-7. Wild West Insecticide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emotional patch-up, but at what cost?
> 
> A final make-up, but was it worth the pain?
> 
> A decisive change-up, but how will you react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE.** if you haven't read the trial, _please, for the love of god,_ read that first. for this chapter in particular, it's extremely important.
> 
> TW for major character death and graphic violence, as always with these execution chapters. if you want to avoid it, skip from "Wild West Insecticide" to "Gokuhara Gonta was". I hated Gonta's canon execution, so there are changes to it. The western theme and "robot wasps mass-stinging him" thing are the same, but pretty much everything else from canon is gone.
> 
> Also, just like last chapter;;;; LOTS of angst, arguing, and tears all around ; - ; ughghhu h my heart hurts... You know it's gonna be bad when the author actually cried writing the chapter akalsjdflkajdslk (don't worry, I'm okay mentally and emotionally!!)
> 
> here we go, the execution.

Saihara was beginning to wonder whether friendship was even a real concept, after all the yelling and voting and killing he’d been through.

He clicked on Gonta’s face, all thoughts and emotions numb to the trial process by now.

“Oooh, not a unanimous vote this time!” Monokuma tsked. “One person dissented from everyone else, voting for Ouma!”

Immediately, Saihara whirled towards Momota, astonishment and a thin layer of disgust on his face. Momota pointedly avoided Saihara’s gaze.

“However,” Monokuma continued, “the rest of the votes are for the real killer, Gonta. Therefore, by majority, you all got it right! Congratulations!”

_You voted for Ouma-kun even knowing all the things we discussed? Voted for him knowing that you were wrong and that if everyone did the same as you, we’d all die?_ Saihara wanted to say, but didn’t. He really, really wasn’t in the mood to yell again, no matter how angry he was.

“So, Ouma-kun,” Saihara said, trying to calm himself down. “What did you mean when you said ‘after that stupid proposition’?”

Ouma blinked at him. “Hm…?”

“You mentioned that Gonta-kun strangled Iruma-san ‘even after that stupid proposition’,” Saihara quoted back at him. “What did that mean?”

Ouma stayed quiet.

“Fucker--” Momota began, but Monokuma held up a paw to interrupt. 

“We actually hacked back into the computer to get Gonta’s memories from there,” Monotaro said. “We’re--” he caught the disapproving eyes of Monokuma and Monophanie and turned a bit more quiet. _“I’m_ sorry I couldn’t help you all sooner.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?!” Momota said impatiently. “We need to hear the truth!”

Monotaro brought out a little open laptop, on which a chibi version of Gonta blinked back at them. “His name is Alter Ego Gonta.”

Yumeno tried giving a tiny wave to it; Harukawa gently pushed Yumeno’s hand back down to the side.

“A-Ah…” Alter Ego Gonta looked a little… worse for wear. Worn and tired, and a bit jumpy. “Everyone…”

“Gon--” Saihara corrected himself. “Alter Ego Gonta…kun…?”

“Hello, Saihara-kun…” Alter Ego Gonta looked gloomy.

“So, Alter Ego Gonta,” Monokuma began. “Just to satiate these kids’ curiosities, please go ahead and tell us whatever you can about the murder.”

“It was… because of the motive…” Alter Ego Gonta spoke up, tears welling in his eyes. His face and eyes were dark and empty. “The motive that Ouma-kun and Gonta found together…”

“Y-You two found it all along?” Shirogane turned to Ouma. Ouma didn’t respond.

“We found it in the forest behind the manor,” Alter Ego Gonta explained. “Saw it entirely… and then we decided together…” Alter Ego Gonta swallowed. “Everyone should die.”

A chill ran through the room.

“Everyone should--” Momota choked.

“--die?” Harukawa echoed, disbelieving. 

“Nobody should see the truth of the outside world if it’s as horrible as that,” Alter Ego Gonta said hollowly. “If it’s something that terrible, none of you should know… You should all just die ignorant. And because we found out about Iruma-san’s plan to kill Ouma-kun… Ouma-kun figured, why not start there?”

“So it _was_ Ouma’s plan,” Yumeno narrowed her gaze.

“What happened next?” Kiibo interrupted. “What--”

“We formed the Killing Game Busters,” Alter Ego Gonta recollected. “Ouma-kun did most of the planning, but… Gonta was okay with doing the actual work. That secret kept him going. Nobody should have to look at that. Nobody should have to remember that. It’s too sad. It’s too much to think about…”

“What did you see?” Saihara demanded.

“Gonta won’t tell anyone,” Alter Ego Gonta replied, miming a lip-zipping gesture. “If you can’t die ignorant, then at the very least, he wants you all to live ignorant.” 

Infuriating; damn infuriating. But if Saihara couldn’t get information on the motive itself, then at the very least he wanted them all to figure out more about Iruma’s last moments. “Then…” Saihara licked his upper lip. “What happened with Iruma-san?”

Alter Ego Gonta sighed. “She was planning to kill Ouma-kun on the rooftop… Gonta saw her move through the barrier, and Ouma-kun told him the plan with the toilet paper and everything. But then… Iruma-san said something strange.”

Ouma’s breath hitched.

“She dropped the hammer in front of us,” Alter Ego Gonta said slowly, “and then asked Ouma-kun if he wanted to work together.”

“What?” Kiibo’s mouth fell open.

“She _dropped her weapon_ to collaborate with you and you _still_ had her killed?” Momota was furious. Ouma merely stood where he was, silent.

“Gonta killed her anyway.” Tears fell out of Alter Ego Gonta’s eyes in earnest. “Ouma-kun was probably panicking, wondering if it was a trap or something… S-So Gonta moved first, and decided he had to get the job done, no matter what.”

Ouma’s head snapped up.

=

_He’s **lying** to help me?_

_No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no--_

=

“That’s not true,” Ouma finally said.

“Ouma-kun--” Alter Ego Gonta protested.

“That’s not true and you fucking know it, Gonta,” Ouma grinned callously. Alter Ego Gonta looked shocked for a split second; Ouma continued before he could speak. “What, did you think I’d thank you or cry like some fair maiden?” He chuckled. “Well, get this: _I don’t care._ I don’t care what you say, Gonta, and I don’t care if all of them know that I directed your every move, down to the way you strangled the last bits of breath out of Iruma,” Ouma sneered.

Kiibo’s eyes watered.

“Aww, Kiiboy,” Ouma crooned. “Are you sad because of what really happened to Iruma-chan?”

“OF COURSE I’M _SAD,”_ Kiibo clenched his teeth, tears spilling all over his face. His eyes glowed that same, emotional turquoise again. **“SHE WAS MY--”**

“Calm down,” Shirogane said, voice louder and more authoritative than she usually talked. At once, Kiibo simmered.

“She was… my…” Kiibo faltered, voice breaking. _“Why_ would you…”

“Unbelievable,” Harukawa grit her teeth, whirling around to face Ouma with her fists clenched. “She gave you a chance and you still let a murder happen?!”

“T-This isn’t fair,” Shirogane hiccuped. 

Saihara couldn’t believe it either._ How long has Ouma-kun been so desperate and panicked? And why?_

It was a bitter revelation, learning that someone he considered a friend, someone he cared about in his own way, was so… wild. So out of it and deranged beyond the scope of what Saihara had thought possible for kids like them, that they’d actively murdered out of their own fear.

(Then again… how many of his friends had done the same?)

_Ouma-kun’s lying. This is a lie. _Saihara’s mind raced._ ...Somehow. At the very least, Ouma-kun has to be exaggerating to make us hate him more. Because otherwise--_

_\--otherwise, what would be the point?_

_“This _is why I fucking voted for you,” Momota growled. “Ya see, Shuichi?! Even if he wasn’t the blackened, he _is _the killer!”

“Don’t start with me,” Saihara groaned. “Please--”

“I’m not lettin’ this go,” Momota coughed. “No way. Not when someone innocent like Gonta was manipulated by--”

“Gonta-kun had every chance to not follow Ouma-kun’s orders,” Saihara faced Momota, voice suddenly ice cold. It stunned the others into silence.

“Shuichi--” Momota looked betrayed.

“Ouma-kun is at fault for letting his thoughts get ahead of him,” Saihara continued. “And he was wrong for deciding to go ahead and kill Iruma-san without waiting to hear what she had to say. But Gonta-kun is his own person, and even if Ouma-kun told him to kill her, he had every chance right then and there to walk away and not do it, even if it meant Ouma-kun dying instead.” 

_Hindsight is 20/20,_ Saihara thought to himself. Even though it was cold, cruel logic, <strike>like Kaito said you always use</strike> it made sense to him, and the others seemed to agree despite their clear discomfort with the topic. “Either way,” Saihara sighed, “these sorts of moral conundrums aren’t meant to be clear-cut to begin with.” 

“He’s right,” Shirogane piped up. “Y-You can say whatever you want about-- well, about stuff like their emotions messing with their, um, logic, but… When something-- um, when a high-stakes thing like life or d-death is involved... anything can happen.”

“We’re all teenagers too, so our brains haven’t fully devel--” Harukawa winced, letting out a noise of pain. “--oped…”

Everyone held their heads. 

_What is it with brains and psychology that’s always triggering us? _Saihara bit his tongue on accident. Shakily, he nodded. “Yeah… That’s right, Shirogane-san. And Maki…” He looked at Alter Ego Gonta, and then remembered the last point he’d wanted to make. “And clearly, if Alter Ego Gonta tried to lie to save Ouma-kun’s face in front of us… he hasn’t been brainwashed or anything drastic like you think he’s been, Kaito.”

“It’s just Stockholm Syndrome, inn’it?” Momota growled; all of them held their heads again for a moment, feeling headache pain from hearing about another psychology topic. “Of course Gonta... would care about someone... who’s manipulating him… if they act like his friend!”

“Don’t say that about Ouma-kun,” both Alter Ego Gonta and the real Gonta said simultaneously, with the same exact upset tone and facial expression. Both blinked, then looked at each other.

“Momota-kun…” the real Gonta began, breaking his gaze with the Alter Ego. “Gonta is thankful that you care about him. But Gonta’s honest when he says that Ouma-kun has never done anything bad to him, and that it was all Gonta’s choice.”

Momota faltered. “But--”

“What would you do, if someone who you _knew_ was planning to kill you someday suddenly changed their mind and said they wanted to work together with you?” Alter Ego Gonta questioned. “If it were Gonta, he wouldn’t believe them.”

“I…” Momota grit his teeth.

“Ouma-kun didn’t believe it either, when Iruma-san told him that. It had terrible consequences, but that’s just what happens when we’re in a death game,” Alter Ego Gonta continued with a sigh. “And that’s especially what happens when you see the truth of the outside world…”

Silence.

“Well, that’s it! That’s what happened with the murder,” Monokuma concluded. “Now that that’s over with…” he grinned. “IIIIT’S--”

“Wait!” Ouma yelled. 

Saihara blinked back in shock. _Why is Ouma-kun speaking up all of a sudden…?_

“This isn’t right,” Ouma grit his teeth. “If you’re gonna execute Gonta for killing Iruma, then… please, execute me too,” he said. Monokuma perked up; Ouma went on. “I came up with everything. The plan, the tools, the whole thing, it was me who led them both to their deaths--”

“No, Ouma-kun,” Alter Ego Gonta and the real Gonta both said at the same time, still crying. Alter Ego Gonta sniffled and continued. “This… This is Gonta’s burden to bear.”

Ouma looked like he was being forced to bite a lemon. Saihara bit his lip, perplexed. _This is… definitely a more genuine confession. _Saihara had helped his uncle with investigations and gathering testimonies. He’d seen just how emotional people could get when it came to the truth…He’d know.

Alter Ego Gonta smiled shakily. “You’re… really kind at heart, Ouma-kun… Even though you say lies a lot, and do bad things on purpose to trick others, and act mean to hurt other people or push them away… even though you’re scared... You do it because you’re nice.”

Ouma looked incensed. “Wha--”

“It’s okay,” the real Gonta smiled as well, mirroring his digital counterpart. “Gonta agrees with the other Gonta… you are nice, Ouma-kun. If… If the secret to the outside world that you saw was just as horrible as the other Gonta says… and if it really was scary, feeling like everyone was against you or tricking you… then Gonta doesn’t blame you for making a bad decision.”

=

(And for Ouma, well.)

_It hurts more when it comes from a friend._

(That was _his_ breaking point.)

=

“STOP BEING SO DAMN _NICE_ TO ME,” Ouma snapped, tears spilling out of his eyes. Frantically, he tried to wipe them away, as if to hide the face he hid behind all his masks, but to no avail. He sucked in a harsh breath. “A ‘BAD DECISION’? I FUCKING _KILLED SOMEONE! _AFTER ALL THIS SHIT, YOU THINK I’M A _GOOD PERSON?_ WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“You are, Ouma-kun,” Gonta hiccuped. “You’re not evil. You’re Gonta’s best friend.”

Ouma’s eyes were still watery; he held back his voice. “Stop it… shut up…”

“Ouma-kun,” Alter Ego Gonta pleaded, “Saihara-kun was right when he said that Gonta had chances to not do what he did. Please… let Gonta sacrifice himself for everyone else’s sakes. If the rules say that only one of us can be punished, then… that’s all Gonta can do anymore…”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Ouma bit out. “Shut up, you know I did this with the full, cruel intention for you and her to die miserable, terrible deaths--”

“Stop saying that!” the real Gonta’s voice cracked, but sounded genuinely angry. “Stop putting yourself down all the time! Stop saying you’re evil and that you enjoy watching people die! Gonta’s been friends with you this whole time, hasn’t he?!”

“Gonta--”

“He’s seen how much work you put into trying to help people!” Gonta cried out, frustrated. “He’s seen your stupid, messy room before! He’s seen you foam at the mouth and pass out just from being around bugs! He’s seen how peaceful you look when you’re fast asleep and not thinking so hard like you do in the daytime!”

“Gonta, stop--” Ouma’s eyes widened, stricken._ It hurts more when it--_

“He’s seen the look on your face when you put things together during investigations!” Gonta continued. “He’s seen how you pull at your scarf when you’re embarrassed; he’s listened to how you carefully and calmly explain things to people so they understand!”

_It hurts more when it come from--_

“He’s seen you smile and laugh while teasing people,” Gonta sucked in a breath. “He’s watched you pour sugary syrup all over your food at every meal; and he’s even seen you solve hard math problems while fussing over your glasses!”

_It hurts more when it comes from a friend._

“Be quiet…” Ouma’s wobbly voice fell on deaf ears.

“Gonta’s seen you _live,_ Ouma-kun,” Gonta choked on his tears. “So don’t lie to him about enjoying death. Gonta knows you’re not a bad person at heart. Not by a long shot.”

Nobody had anything to say to that.

“And promise…” Gonta trembled like a leaf, but still smiled anyway. “Promise Gonta that everyone will forgive each other and be friends after this, okay?”

Ouma swallowed thickly. “...Alright, I promise.”

(Saihara’s breath hitched as he noticed the two small, lithe fingers Ouma held crossed behind his back.)

“Enough!” Monokuma threw his paws in the air. “You’re so sentimental, sheesh! A little bit’s great when the morality’s as dicey as this, but even _I _can’t keep up with this much power-of-friendship garbage!” He grinned. “Iiiiiiiit’s punishment time!”

Gonta and his Alter Ego both waved, smiling through their tears as the floor opened up beneath them and swallowed them whole.

The screens in front of everyone else began glowing, then displayed the title screen for the execution:

**Wild West Insecticide**

Ultimate Entomologist Gokuhara Gonta’s Execution: Executed

Gonta and his Alter Ego were both tied to a stake. The area surrounding them was themed like an old Western movie.

Saihara looked at Gonta, at the brave face both versions of Gonta were putting on, and then looked at Ouma. The other boy’s face was blank, staring at his screen with no emotion to show other than the dried tear tracks on his face.

Monophanie, dressed in a cowgirl outfit, pressed a button on a remote.

And then it happened. 

Robotic wasps swarmed the two, flying and buzzing maddeningly towards the stake. They stung Gonta; within the laptop, digital bugs flew and hit Alter Ego Gonta, each group of wasps filling both versions of Gonta with--

_Is that poison?_ Saihara realized with a start.

Gonta’s face was covered in reddish bumps and rashes, face and skin blue around them. He coughed, choking on blood with each sting, unable to even cry out as the robotic bugs reached every inch of him. Alter Ego Gonta was left in a similar state, albeit within the confines of the laptop he was in. 

Both their eyes turned wide and bulbous, framing the blueish-purpleish face they were part of--

= 

\--just like Iruma’s were when she was strangled.

(Bugs already scared Ouma to death, but watching them kill Gonta was somehow infinitely worse than having to be around them himself.)

Surprisingly, Monotaro was trying to grab the remote from Monophanie; trying to stop the execution from within. It was a touching gesture, even if it was from another shitty robot. At some point, Monophanie must’ve gotten pissed off, because she then pressed the second button on her remote.

Just like that, around half the wasps that were swarming Gonta came back full force at Monotaro, stabbing themselves through him, leaving him to bleed out with their stingers sticking out through him.

_Wait, what?_ Ouma twitched. _He’s a robot; why’s he bleeding? _

His question would go unanswered. The robo-insects’ assault was unrelenting, and the poison coursing through Gonta had amassed itself and seeped into him completely.

There was no dramatic flourish. It was death, plain and simple.

Gonta’s body merely hung from its position at the stake, riddled with stings, blood and poison dripping from each and every one, and did not move again.

The screen turned off, and the only thing Ouma could see flashing now before his eyes was that face, that smiling face, that crying face--

The face of someone he’d gone and doubted.

The face of someone he’d thought was lying to and manipulating him, when in reality nothing of the sort was going on.

The face of his friend.

Gokuhara Gonta was gone, gone, gone.

_He’s dead. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, it’s all your fault he died and YOU BROKE DICE’S RULES--_

Monokuma let out a satisfied sigh, and Ouma snapped out of his thoughts. “Now that that’s over…” he turned to Ouma, a glint in his red eye. 

Ouma’s eyes widened.

“Your turn, little Supreme Leader!”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at last, some canon divergence :')
> 
> Ouma's execution will be a **special update** on **SUNDAY,** or two days from now <strike>because i know yall will kill me if i have yall wait til tuesday akdsfjalkds</strike>. I've been looking forward to posting the next chapter for nearly a year, and now that we're finally at this point in the story, I'm at an emotional point beyond tears. Look forward to it, and to the rest of the story beyond that!
> 
> As for the changes from canon and here... while I enjoyed Ouma's canonical performance, part of me can't help but feel like he really wouldn't be able to pull it off in this AU. His mental faculties are threadbare, his paranoia and distrust is at its height, and on top of that, people are yelling at him and each other all across the board... That plus all his regrets piled up would, imo, make anyone snap. And not just in a "haha i was evil all along suck it" lying way. I really think he wouldn't be able to control himself. Like, have you guys _seen_ 14-18 year old boys? They'd never have this shit under control, IRL or in fiction.
> 
> Even if you tell your brain you aren't sad, your eyes are still going to know the truth and let you cry, after all.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories, chitchatting, or just getting live notifications on when the fic updates, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	34. 4-8. Checkmate: Another Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of chess in which the ruler tries to conquer.
> 
> (But at some point, his crown has to fall.)
> 
> Long live the king!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS A SPECIAL WEEKEND UPDATE.** (posted earlier than Sunday since I finished it bdslfhdskl). **IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE TRIAL OR GONTA'S EXECUTION POSTED ON FRIDAY (chapters 32-33; 4-6 and 4-7) PLEASE READ THOSE FIRST.**
> 
> This chapter's pretty short. It's actually the shortest chapter to date, which is seriously saying something-- this one clocks in at slightly over 1k words; the average word count per chapter before this has been slightly over 5k. That being said, the same general warnings for emotional chapters apply here.
> 
> On with the execution :)

Everyone did a double take. “W-Wait--” Kiibo faltered. “Are you serious?”

“You asked earlier if you could be executed with Gonta, too, didn’t you?” Monokuma ignored him, focusing on Ouma as he feigned thoughtfulness. “You felt genuinely guilty for leading two people to their deaths, so you asked to be executed. Gonta was too nice to say yes to that, but I agree with you! You _should _be executed!”

Shirogane covered whatever expression she was making with her hands. “Y-You couldn’t possibly just…”

Yumeno looked horrified. “Two executions in one trial…? Is that even allowed?!” 

(Saihara didn’t miss Momota’s passive silence.)

Ouma’s eyes widened in shock, mouth gaping. Then, he smiled. And then, that smile turned to boisterous, mad laughter. “I KNEW IT! _I KNEW IT!_ I KNEW YOU WERE GONNA HAVE ME DIE! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Saihara felt numb. _Is that… why Ouma-kun asked about there being a tie vote for the blackened?_

Monokuma interrupted his thoughts. “There’s nothing in the rules saying that _only_ the blackened has to be executed. Upupu... Back in the first trial, I would’ve executed Saihara, too, if he’d actually known that Akamatsu had murderous intent behind her shot-put Rube Goldberg plan and helped her with it.”

Saihara froze. “Huh?”

“But since he didn’t,” Monokuma continued, “he ended up not counting as a legitimate killer, and he also couldn’t be considered the blackened. You, on the other hand--” Monokuma’s eye gleamed again, a tell-tale red as he pointed a clawed paw at Ouma-- “You were fully aware that your plan and actions were going to lead to murder. You manipulated the scenario to go that way, so you were the one behind the whole deal! And for that, I’ve decided that you’re going to be held accountable and punished too!” He grinned.

=

_This is my one chance to kill him and get another threat out of the way before he can really mess up my plans for this season, _Shirogane thought, eyes wide.

_Have him executed. <strike>Don’t do this </strike>Exploit the loophole. <strike>These rules aren’t even</strike>_

_Die, Ouma Kokichi._

=

Instinctively, Ouma turned to look at Saihara.

There was a look on his face that Saihara couldn’t for the life of him decipher: a mixture of grinning madness, absolute gripping fear and terror, and yet, acceptance. As if to say, _Welp, here’s where my story ends. I expected this. I** deserved** this. What are you going to do from now on? How are you going to react to this plot twist?_

“Iiiiiit’s punishment time!” Monokuma cackled with glee.

Chains came from below the floor; one clamped around Ouma’s neck before anyone could protest. The floor opened up and Ouma let out a strangled cry as he fell downwards, hand desperately outstretched to the trial room.

Saihara’s blood ran cold. _Is this meant… to mirror Kaede?_

But in the end, all of Saihara’s realizations were in vain: he could only watch the rest on the screen in front of him, helpless to prevent Ouma’s demise.

Ouma landed on a chair, chains binding his wrists, ankles, and neck to it. A mere second after, a cheap-looking crown landed lopsided on his head. Ouma looked at the room: a gigantic chessboard, with his own pieces being white and Monokuma as the king of the other side, with red pieces.

The screen flashed a title card:

**CHECKMATE**

Ultimate Supreme Leader Ouma Kokichi’s Execution: Executed

Saihara felt a lump of bile rise in his throat. No matter how horribly Ouma acted during and after the trial… it was still an entirely different experience, having to watch people die.

Morbid though it was, Saihara couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Fifteen spaces directly behind Ouma, there was an additional Monokuma piece: a red grim reaper. Though his neck was bound, Ouma himself seemed to have noticed its presence. 

The chess match started.

(_This is gonna be a long execution_, Saihara thought, nauseous.)

Experimentally, Ouma sacrificed a pawn; the red grim reaper moved forward one space. 

_So that’s how it is, _Saihara pondered._ At the end, when Ouma-kun’s pieces are all captured, the reaper will finish him off._ Saihara shook his head, startled. Not when. _If._ Someone as enigmatic as Ouma couldn’t possibly be killed by…

He tore himself away from his thoughts and focused on the screen once more…

...and was surprised to see the gameplay continuing, with both sides having an even match-- Ouma wasn’t at a total disadvantage; even Monokuma had lost a decent number of pieces. However, Ouma was progressively getting more nervous: he was sweating a lot more, and his eyes were shifting, turning dangerously close to spirals as he bit his lip in increasing fear and paranoia.

It made Saihara’s head and heart hurt.

Despite Ouma’s subdued panic, Monokuma seemed rather… irritated? Impatient? Saihara wasn’t sure, but the bear wasn’t grinning the way he usually did throughout all the other executions, and Saihara clung to the notion that Monokuma was stressed like a lifeline.

The feeling continued as the chess match continued. Time ticked; pieces moved.

(It was so slow, so _agonizingly _slow, so unlike a normal execution, that Saihara also wondered what the point of it even was.)

Eventually, only Monokuma, the reaper piece, Ouma himself, and one of Ouma's knights were left. 

Saihara wasn’t much of a chess person, so he didn’t really know much about its rules and strategies... but Ouma’s pieces appeared to be placed in such a way that Monokuma couldn’t avoid them. Monokuma dutifully moved forward, only to be angered.

There was no way he could avoid being killed by either Ouma or his knight after his next move.

Impulsively, Monokuma yelled: an order to the reaper to kill Ouma. Saihara’s eyes widened before slipping closed, lips pressed tightly together in a bitter line. _Three more people dead,_ he thought, dazed. _We’re dropping like flies..._

Saihara was snapped out of his reverie by Ouma’s yelling in return for his knight. 

The knight’s eyes glowed bright blue, and as if possessed, it slid in a perfect L-shape, killing the reaper. The chains binding Ouma to his throne immediately slackened, and the crown slipped off his head and shattered.

Saihara gaped, mouth wide open, absolutely dumbfounded. Monokuma seemed just as stricken with confusion and rage. 

Monokuma moved as the rules forced him to, and Ouma’s knight moved back to its original position.

_Monokuma is in checkmate_.

Saihara couldn’t get the giddy, dizzying thought out of his head. _Monokuma _was in_ checkmate. _

The square Monokuma was on turned bright red, then ejected him from the playing area, launching him out with a spring.

The room lit up purple, and the words **E X E C U T I O N F A I L E D** scrolled across the board’s remaining squares.

Saihara looked around at the others in the trial room, even pinching his arm to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Everyone was looking on in equal levels of disbelief and wonder: shocked, awed, crying.

_He survived. He’s alive. He’s safe. He beat the system designed to kill us._

Ouma trembled and coughed as he fell to his knees, heaving a shaky sigh of relief.

For the first time since they’d arrived at the academy, the tears in Saihara’s eyes were those of triumph.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') [cue collective audience sigh of relief/strangling the author for that previous cliffhanger]
> 
> If this chapter felt like a cop-out or anything, sorry about that! But even though Ouma was always meant to be executed in this fic, he was never intended to actually _die_ because of it at this point. 
> 
> (His story isn't over yet.)
> 
> The next chapter will be out on **Tuesday,** normal schedule, and will be the last chapter in section 4. Thank you all for your patience and readership; it means a lot!
> 
> LINKS TO FANART!!!!!!!!! BC THIS FIC HAS THEM AND YALL SHOULD CHECK THEM OUT :'D
> 
> [1\. Section 3 fanart by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/189659362317/a-lil-fanart-for-section-3-of-khattikeris)   
[2\. Ouma's execution fanart by Kira @/celesteori](https://celesteori.tumblr.com/post/190110587652/so-see-the-entire-reason-i-have-this-personal-in)   
[3\. Ouma's execution fanart for Ouma Month 2020 by @/kzkanzaki](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBJp3_BgM-2/?igshid=1neoamod3x8ux)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)! Thank you all for reading!


	35. 4-9. The Phantom Thief Departs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan in mind, Ouma is done.
> 
> Illness worsening, Momota is upset.
> 
> Heart exposed, Saihara makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note: there were three chapters before this, including a special update. Please read those before this if you've missed it.
> 
> I think SaiOuma fans will like this chapter... just a hunch.
> 
> And for those of you who have read my chatfic.... ;)

_Why did I survive…?_

_This was the one chance I had to die and make up for everything, so why did I panic and try to live instead?_

_Why didn’t I just face it head-on like Gonta did?_

_Why..._

=

Shirogane bit her lip. 

_He’s alive. Fuck._

She bit harder, causing a pinprick of blood to stain her teeth; she swiped her tongue over it and focused on pretending to cry tears of relief._ The execution failed…_

_My plans… are definitely in danger now._

=

Monokuma was fuming, full of silent rage as he and Ouma resurfaced to the trial room. 

Even though Saihara desperately wanted to run up to Ouma-- he survived an _execution, _for god’s sake-- he held back. What Ouma likely needed most at this moment was space; he looked incredibly shaken up. 

Or rather, he looked shaken up back when he was in the execution room. Now, he’d completely changed face. Ouma sighed, cool as a cucumber, and the difference between that face and the ones he’d made previously made Saihara blanche.

“You…” Monokuma grit out. “YOU…!” 

“Aww, why so upset, Monokuma?” Ouma grinned tauntingly. “The rules never said that you haveto die during your execution, just that the execution has to be carried out! Everything’s fine now, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s not,” Monokuma held up a clawed paw. “You ruined the show.”

Ouma was now looking at his nails in disinterest. “Aww, are your viewers disappointed?” His face shifted again, indignantly pumping a fist close to his chest. “Well, too bad!” And again, now a happy face. “You can’t get rid of your partner that easily!”

_He’s back to normal?_ Saihara couldn’t believe it. _No way. There’s no way he wasn’t--_

“Upupu…” Monokuma grinned. “Well, it doesn’t even matter! Even though you survived the execution, you’re not gonna graduate and leave the game, ‘cuz you weren’t even the true blackened to begin with! 

(For the barest split second-- blink and you would’ve missed it-- Ouma’s expression soured.)

“Forget that,” Momota growled, somewhat conflicted. “He’s alive, and that’s what counts.” He turned to Ouma. “What the fuck did you and Gonta even _see? _What was the motive? What sorta secret about the outside world was so bad that you killed Iruma instead of working with her like she wanted?!”

“H-He’s right,” Shirogane quivered. “What kind of secret would-- would possibly push Gonta that far?” She looked rather upset. “If-- If you cared about Gonta at all, you’d tell us what the secret of the outside world is!”

Ouma’s face morphed into something that Saihara wished he never had to see.

“That’s fine. I don’t care about him.”

“Ouma-kun--?!” Saihara couldn’t help but let that slip. It such a jarring shift-- he’d almost _died _just now, and here he was, cackling like a maniac and acting like nothing had happened.

“Ahahaha! Ohhh man, did you guys _actually _fall for all that fake yelling and crying?” Ouma sneered. “You’re so dumb! I would never cry for someone like _Gonta!”_

“F-Fake… crying?” Shirogane asked fearfully. 

“But,” Yumeno faltered. “You looked… and sounded so sad…”

“If I said the actual truth back there, Gonta would’ve been upset!” Ouma scoffed, as if it was a burden to him. “He seriously thought that I considered him a friend… that I was nice to him out of the goodness of my heart, and that I’d actually _mourn_ him. The truth would’ve interfered with the game, so I just lied to calm him down,” he explained, snickering. “It was for a good reason, so it’s fine, riiiight?” Ouma looked at Saihara and paused, donning that maddening evil smirk again. “And even when Monokuma tried to execute me for failing my plan… you didn’t think I was actually panicking in there, right? Or sentimental? Please! It was all according to my plan!” 

“What?” Kiibo looked mortified. 

“What do you mean, ‘what really happened’?” Saihara asked, alarmed. “You-- you almost got-- and he-- what--” his tongue twisted itself up with all the thoughts running around in his head. 

“Nyeh…” Yumeno winced. “Why did you make Gonta do that?!”

Ouma inspected his nails. “So it wouldn’t be boring, obviously! I gave Monokuma an incentive so that it’d liven up the game, and I told him that fake-executing me would give this whole thing a bit more pizazz and shock value. C’mon, think about it!” He turned darker. “If I actually wanted to save everyone like Gonta did, I wouldn’t have betrayed him, and I wouldn’t have killed Iruma-chan when she suggested we collaborate. You all should’ve realized that.”

“I shoulda _fuckin’_ known,” Momota growled. “You’re a manipulative bastard at heart. I dunno what shit ya said or did to Gonta to make ‘im think of you like a friend, but I’ll never forgive ya for it!”

The others remained in varying states of anger and shock. Saihara’s head spun with confusion, desperate to understand. “Th-Then… why did Gonta--”

Ouma giggled, face contorting into the most grotesque, ugly expressions they had ever seen. Then he laughed, longer and longer--

“WHO _CARES _ABOUT THAT IDIOT NOW?!” Ouma screamed, voice raw and feral and _hurt._ “HE’S FUCKING _DEAD!”_

“What...” Saihara froze, numb. _Was Kaito right after all, then, to hate Ouma-kun…? No. I don’t… I can’t… I can’t just hate him like that… We’re all victims of the game… Nobody here is cruel enough to purposely… _

“I wanna enjoy this game filled with suspicion and betrayal from the bottom of my heart! I’m cruel! I’m evil!” Ouma grinned creepily, looking simultaneously agonized and delighted. _“Bad people _are the only ones who can manipulate their way to the top. They’re the only ones who can get lucky and live. That’s why _I_ survived and not anyone else! _GET IT?!”_

Not only his face-- his entire body emanated nothing but raw and unfettered torment.

Saihara’s head swum, a dull pain spreading through. Tears leaked from his eyes as disembodied words with vaguely familiar voices attached floated into his head again.

_ **homeschooled, weren’t you** _

** _love... with you… safe…_ **

** _stay here_ **

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

Ouma snickered. “I _am_ the supreme leader of evil, so it’s obvious my personality would be twisted. The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it. There are people in this world who spread grief and misery for no reason than the thrill of it, and I’m one of them. Nothing pleases me more than inflicting pain on others!”

“What on Earth is _wrong_ with you?” Kiibo whispered, tears streaming down his robotic face. “Iruma-san and Gonta-kun died for this?”

The headache was still there. Even as Ouma talked, the words Saihara heard in his head kept him frozen to the ground, unable to make sense of it. 

All he knew was that something was off.

“S-Seriously…” Momota stammered, teeth grit as he clenched his fist. “Who the _hell _do ya think you are?”

“So…” Harukawa finally found her voice. “For your own entertainment, you sacrificed Iruma and Gonta?”

“What’s so bad about that?” Ouma asked, nonchalantly placing his hands behind his head. “You kill people for money, right, Harumaki-chan?”

“A piece of shit like you has no right to call me that,” she growled. “Do you want to fucking die, bitch?”

“Aww… You look better with a scowl on your face, Harumaki-chan,” Ouma grinned. “At any rate, you guys are waaay too trusting. If only you had suspected me more from the start…” He laughed cruelly. “Then Iruma and Gonta wouldn’t have died such meaningless deaths!”

_“Meaningless deaths?” _Momota roared. “That’s fucking _it,_ I’ve had it--!” he sprinted up to Ouma like a bullet.

The punch left a dull thud resounding through everyone’s skulls. Momota was on the ground, gritting his teeth, and Ouma was standing up, shaking his burning hand out. Saihara and everyone else cried out in shock.

“Kaito--!” Saihara yelled, running towards them. “Ouma-kun, Kaito, are you two alright?”_ Ouma-kun’s shaking his hand like he didn’t expect to punch Kaito… Was he just reflexively acting in self-defense?_

Ouma tsked, then changed faces, speaking up louder: “Hm… By the way, Momota-chan, is it just me…? Or have you gotten slower since the last time you chased me?”

Momota froze guiltily. Saihara blinked in confusion. “Huh…?”

Ouma smiled. “Maybe, just maybe… Momota-chan is hiding something from us, too.”

“Are you alright?!” Harukawa had dashed over to Momota’s side in concern. She glared at Ouma. “For someone who claims to be bad at fighting, you were pretty agile just now.”

“I lead an organization of ten thousand people, Harumaki-chan,” Ouma snickered. “Of course I’m good at it. You really believed an obvious lie like that?”

Harukawa looked murderous. “You really wanna die, don’t you?!”

“No, Maki!” Saihara reached out his hand, but didn’t dare try to physically hold her back.

Then, Momota coughed.

He coughed and coughed and hacked, face blue, sweat dripping down his face, blood gushing out of his mouth and into his hands.

“Kai...to?” Harukawa gasped, all previous intent to kill dropped. _“Kaito!”_ She rushed to get closer to him, eyes widening in horror at the blood gushing between his fingers and past his lips. 

Momota coughed again, violently hacking up even more blood. “‘s fine… Don’t worry ‘bout it… Coughed too much ‘n-- cut my throat or som’n, I dunno… ‘s just… a cold…”

“Like fuck it is, you moron!” Harukawa shrieked, looking over his bruised cheek. “What sort of illness-- no, this definitely looks like some sort of chronic _disease--_”

“Be careful!” Yumeno chided, eyes wide. “If he’s this hurt, he can’t stay in the trial room any longer!”

“Can you stand, Momota-kun?” Kiibo asked. “Do you need to lean on my shoulder?” he winced. “Or I could get on my tiptoes; I know I’m shorter than most guys…”

“M-Momota-kun, hang in there!” Shirogane joined them.

Saihara turned to Ouma. “Are you-- are you alright?” he asked in mild alarm, gesturing towards Ouma. “I mean… First the execution, then your hand. And you almost got punched--”

Ouma blinked at Saihara in surprise, like he was an alien or something for even wanting to speak with him. He waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. A weakling like Momota-chan, especially in that kind of state… Barely did a thing to me. Just go.”

Saihara paused, hesitant. Then, he pulled his hand back and went to Momota, fretting with the others.

“Sorry, I don’t know anything about… diseases like this. It’s not like I have actual healing powers... And I don’t think Monokuma would be willing to give us medicine,” Yumeno whispered apologetically.

“He-- He put some stuff in the infirmaries on each floor, though, right? Right-- wait, yeah, didn’t he?” Shirogane stammered. “I think…”

“Sorry, Kaito,” Harukawa muttered. She took the edge of his jacket and ripped it, then put the cloth to his mouth. “Bleed into here for the time being. You need to rest.”

“Kaito, can you breathe?” Saihara asked patiently. “There isn’t anything in your lungs, right? Nod or shake your head.” Momota nodded; his face was already paler.

Ouma hummed loudly. “Huh… Saving Momota-chan? Why? Because he’s puking up blood? Someone who nearly got you all killed and got taken by a single punch so easily…” He sneered. “Why do you care about a weakling like him who’d only drag you down?”

_Even when I reach out to him, he pushes me away, and then does this._

_I’ve had it--_

Saihara rounded on him. "Kaito is surrounded by us because he accepts that we care about him. You’ve been freaking out since the trial started and all the way even after Gonta-kun’s execution, yelling and screaming and crying over everything that’s happened, and it’s weird! You aren’t usually this emotional! Even now--” Saihara’s head hurt, it fucking _hurt, _the memories were pounding in his mind and his heart was practically screaming against his ribcage, but he raised his voice-- “You almost _died_ just now! And for a while there, we _were _all concerned about you, but you just instantly changed face and shoved that all away!” he snapped.

“Shuichi,” Harukawa said in a warning tone.

Saihara grit his teeth, ignoring her. “You started talking about hating us and how you’re evil and want us to suffer, blabbing about loving the killing game and other crazy _nonsense, _monologuing about having fun playing games with us like we’re pawns instead of friends to protect. You think you’re the only smart person here, so you try to reverse-psychology us with lies like we’re children, talking down to us like we’re stupid even though we’re all trying just as hard to get out of here--”

“I want all of you dead, Saihara-chan,” Ouma interrupted with a sardonic smile. “That’s all there is to it.”

“No, you don’t!” Saihara yelled back, frustrated-- his voice was hoarse, his throat hurt from all the yelling he’d done, but goddammit, there was a point he wanted to make._ “You can’t just turn around and act the same_ _as you always have after you nearly **died!**_You can’t just pretend you weren’t hurt and scared!”

“Shuichi,” Harukawa warned again.

The smile on Ouma’s face dropped. “I’m not pretending, Saihara-chan,” he said, gaze distant and voice cold.

_“Shut up!” _Saihara wanted to throttle him. “You _always_ do that, you've always kept us all at arm's length from the beginning, acting like you want us dead even though I know you’re not that kind of person-- _what the hell are you trying to accomplish?!"_

Ouma stared at him, face utterly blank.

"You're alone, Ouma-kun," Saihara continued quietly, gaze narrowing as his voice broke. "But I don't understand why you have to be."

Ouma stared longer, silent. Finally, he let out a huff of air. "How boring," he said quietly. "You really have been hanging out with Momota too long if you think some angry, passionate speech is gonna somehow turn everything around.” He smirked, but there was no feeling behind it. “Whatever! I’ll have my own fun in this game, killing all of you even if I’m alone.”

With nothing more to say, Ouma began walking out of the trial room.

"What good is a supreme leader without friends and followers?" Saihara challenged, feeling heated all of a sudden. "Huh--"

“Just stop, Saihara-kun,” Kiibo put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Let him go.”

Saihara clenched his jaw, unrelenting. "You said it yourself once, Ouma-kun, a long time ago… around the first few days we got here, even before Amami-kun’s murder. You said back then that nobody would care if you died, Ouma-kun," he raised his voice so the other could hear. "But _I did."_

Ouma paused at the door upon hearing those words. Then, he walked out.

Saihara sighed, his headache spreading. _Was there even a point in that...? Could my words get through to him?_ Regardless, he turned back to Momota and the others.

"Defending someone as despicable as him,” Harukawa glanced at him, warning, “--and especially telling him you _care--_ that’s bound to get you hurt one day, Shuichi."

“Even if he’s gone through something like an execution… He’s not going to change that easily,” Kiibo agreed. “I don’t think we should pursue him.”

Shirogane trembled. “I-- I feel the same.”

“I don’t get why he’s being like this,” Saihara finally admitted, tired. “Even if he isn’t going to change, we can’t just leave him alone--”

“Saihara,” Yumeno looked up at him, somewhat forlornly. “Look… It’s nice that you care about _everyone _here and all, but… you shouldn’t try to get so close to someone like him. Just because he was almost executed...” she trailed off.

“What,” Saihara blinked. “What are you trying to say?”

“Whether he really did orchestrate his own execution or not,” Harukawa continued Yumeno’s trail of thought, “Ouma made it clear that he wants us all suffering and dead. You’re wasting your time trying to take his side and force him to get friendly.”

Momota coughed again. “‘m gonna… go back to my room…” He wobbled on his feet.

Saihara turned to him, concerned. “I’ll go with--”

“Don’t follow me!” Momota snapped sharply. “I can walk on my own,” he grit his teeth in pain. “I... can do it on my own.”

Saihara reached towards Momota, hand outstretched. “Are you su--”

Momota turned on him. “I don’t need your help,_ Saihara,” _he hissed furiously. Saihara retracted his hand instantly, hurt. Momotatried to stagger off, but collapsed to his knees; evidently, the pain was too much for his legs to bear.

“I-- I’ll go to the infirmary!” Yumeno declared. “There might be a medicine that works in there…”

Shirogane confirmed it. “I-- I think I remember seeing morphine there, Yumeno-san. Bring that.” She turned to Momota. “Drink it; you’ll pass out and the, um-- the coughing will stop. You can go to sleep after that...”

Harukawa nodded. “I’ll stay with Kaito until then.”

Saihara stayed quiet. 

_Must be a new record, [$%!%#@], _the malicious voice in his head taunted. _This time around, you lost **four** friends solving a case! Gonta and Iruma are dead, Ouma keeps shutting the door in your face before you can even try to get close, and now even Momota hates you for everything you’ve done!_

Still quiet.

_Shut up… _Saihara thought back desperately. _Even if Ouma-kun said all of that… It’s hard to believe that whole monologue was honest. I don’t want to believe that he’s an evil person. I still… Even though I’m upset at what he’s done, I still want to understand. I still care…! And with Kaito… Is it really that wrong of me to want to protect as many people as I can? To have one person die at the end of a trial instead of all of us, even if it goes against his ideals or his ideas of trust and friendship?_

The voice in his head was quiet, its silence more damning than its jeers. 

_...What even is the point?_

“Goodnight, everyone,” Saihara finally said, stalking out miserably. “See you in the morning.”

Saihara’s deduction was correct: Ouma’s chess match execution had lasted so that even though the trial had begun around late morning, it was already nighttime. As Saihara reached outside the trial room, alone in the darkness of the cage, he bit back frustrated tears. “Damn it… _damn it!”_

Monokuma’s nighttime announcement played, its unabashed singsong mocking him along with everything else he’d been through.

=

It’d been a while after the trial and the nighttime announcement. Everyone was safe in their dorm rooms, for the most part.

(The stinging scent of antiseptic still filled Ouma's nostrils, giving him a dull headache even when he wasn't indoors.)

_As if Monokuma would’ve killed Saihara earlier… That was just so it wouldn’t outwardly seem like a blatant, rule-breaking power grab. I heard what he said to Iruma. I was there. Saihara is related to the mastermind somehow, and he’s only trying to reach out to me now in order to appear more like a more fleshed out character._

“It’s almost time…” Ouma whispered to himself. “Yeah… It’s almost time. Now that all of this has happened, I have no choice. I’ll end it.”

_Trying to find a way to kill me and get rid of me… the game is absolutely rigged. All of them are against me. But even so, I’ll save them. I’ll become the mastermind, and then I’ll save them._

_It doesn’t matter if they believe what I say or not. As long as I lie and take action, they’ll be swept up in my plans anyway..._

He grinned. “Now is the time… I’ll end this killing game.” His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness; he looked proudly at his handiwork.

This world is mine. 

\--Ouma Kokichi

_Now to get the supplies…_ Ouma lifted the rock his message had been carved on and reached into the pit he’d secretly dug underneath, grabbing the bag full of snacks and bottles of water and other various supplies and knicknacks he’d swiped from the cafeteria and gradually piled in there. _Only one more place left to put these things... _

He tiptoed carefully towards the Love Hotel.

_I swept all the bugs around here with the Bug-Vac™ beforehand, so it shouldn’t be too big of a problem… _Ouma made eye contact with the camera in front of the Love Hotel, grinning at it as he put a quieting finger in front of his lips. Then, impulsively, he flipped the camera off. _Up yours, you piece of shit mastermind._

WELCOME, [[KOKICHI OUMA]].

PICK A LOVER.

The familiar selection screen popped up. Technically, he didn’t have any other tries left-- he’d already done Rantaro, Harukawa, Kiibo, and Saihara-- but he knew that the Love Hotel’s uses didn’t technically stop there.

_‘Everyone gets four turns, and you can't repeat the same person's scenario. You only get one shot! And if you wanna come here just to chill in the room-- though I have no idea why you’d want to do that-- you can have that additional use just once.’_

Monokuma was a bastard, but Ouma couldn’t deny he provided convenient opportunities. 

Ouma swiped the selection screen to the right, revealing a screen that said ‘CASUAL USE?’. There were two options underneath: yes and no. He tapped on the ‘yes’ option, and the door clicked open. 

Ouma made a show of going inside and ruffling around, leaving the supplies inside. There was a pad of sticky notes near the entryway; he quickly wrote a note and stuck it on the wall by the bed, then walked out, satisfied.

As he crept back towards his dorm room, he noticed a faint silhouette by a tree. _Judging by the height… Yumeno saw that. Oh, well. Helps my alibi even more._

He grinned. Everything was set now.

=

Saihara was in bed, staring at the ceiling, confused and frustrated by Ouma Kokichi and his stupid actions. 

That wasn’t new. Boys-- especially ones like Ouma-- had always confused him; his uncle would have a good chuckle trying to ‘solve’ the boys Saihara liked as if they were mysterious cases.

His uncle… He’d helped Saihara with so much. From taking him in to discussing dumb things like boys to steadily helping him understand his parents, Uncle Shuhei had done so much for him. And Aunt Sonomi had supported him every step of the way through his transition too, giving away all his old skirts and dresses and helping him cut his hair and taking him shopping for new clothes.

_I miss my family. _

Saihara turned over, eyes watering into his pillow.

(Perhaps most importantly, he missed interacting with people he actually understood all the way through.)

Nothing Ouma said at the trial made sense in comparison to how he’d been before. His sadness and paranoia while Gonta was dying, his weird behavior in the virtual world-- all of it was so different from the way he was before the third trial. He used to be more like someone who just pranked others, who clearly had more on their mind but wasn’t really malicious. 

In particular, Saihara couldn’t get the memory of Ouma, concussed to hell and yet concernedly blabbering about his younger siblings, out of his head. It’d been over an hour and a half already, but Saihara couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

_What the hell is Ouma-kun thinking? What does he really want? ...He wasn’t serious about all of that, was he?_

Saihara shifted to the side, settling in the covers, only to make eye contact with his watch on the table. 12:01 AM. 

It wasn’t that late. And hell-- he’d sort of made it a habit by now, going to that place after trials.

_If it worked with Iruma-san, it might work with him._

On the other hand, Saihara could choose not to do that and instead let himself fall to depressing, drudging sleep, bound to be full of nightmares after watching Gonta die, Ouma almost die, and Momota essentially tell him that they were no longer friends, then cough blood so hard that he had to get knocked out with morphine and be dragged back to his dorm room like a sack of potatoes by Harukawa.

It was settled. Saihara shivered as he slipped out of his covers, padding out of his dorm room and towards the Love Hotel.

_Everyone only gets four times to use it, and this is my last one._ Saihara stared at the door, at the screen in front of him.

(It was still weird seeing the faces of all his friends who had died, bright and shining with electronic light on the selection board, as if their biggest fantasies still mattered when they were all corpses six feet under.)

WELCOME, [[SHUICHI SAIHARA]].

PICK A LOVER.

He clicked on the picture with Ouma’s face on it and waited while the door buffered.

=

As he entered through the door, the room… didn’t morph.

Saihara was still in the Love Hotel.

He was still in the Love Hotel, and Ouma was standing in front of him. For a moment, Saihara panicked, wondering if he’d messed up somehow, but then he noticed what Ouma was wearing: a fancy suit, complete with a bright white top hat and a cape. A gaudy outfit, suitable for only a showman or an idiot.

Ouma spoke, startling Saihara out of his reverie. “Aw, man, it’s been awhile since I landed into trouble like this.”

Saihara felt weight on his head and realized that he was wearing a hat._ What the-- even my outfit changed? I’m wearing a suit… Why? My clothes have always stayed the same until now..._ He tried to come up with a scenario to match and could think of none; he decided to tread cautiously and speak evenly. “Trouble?”

Ouma grinned at him. “Trapping me like this… in a hotel of all places… That’s very like you, Mister Detective.”

Saihara did his best to avoid showing surprise on his face; he wasn’t sure if he was successful or not. _So unlike all the other scenarios, I’m still meant to be a detective in Ouma-kun’s fantasy … okay. And I’m chasing him or something?_

Ouma’s look turned a bit determined; he smirked. “But I won’t tell you where I hid the stolen diamond! Torture won’t work either, y’know!” He giggled. “But you should know that, I tell you so every time.”

_So I do chase him regularly, though I appear to fail a lot. _Somehow, that thought irritated Saihara. _At any rate, Ouma-kun’s… a thief? _

“I-- I’m not gonna torture you,” Saihara finally said, trying very hard not to let any overwhelming emotions leak from his voice. “What do you think detectives even do?” 

“You’re planning on tying and roughing up my body, aren’t you?” Despite his words, Ouma didn’t look particularly upset. 

Saihara flushed. “H-Huh?!”

“That’s why there’s a bed, right?” Ouma gestured at the ridiculous carousel design near the headboard. He turned to look at the bed more closely, and Saihara could see a faint blush on Ouma’s cheeks as he mumbled: “I hope you’re not into any _too_ crazy kinks, even I wouldn’t be able to keep up with that...”

_You’ve got it totally wrong, you sex fiend! _Saihara wanted to shriek. But he couldn’t respond as himself, or yell. This wasn’t the same as the other scenarios. Saihara had to scope out how Ouma’s ideal reacted, and try to figure out how to get the other boy to open up...

“N-No, like I said, I’m not gonna do anything like that to you,” Saihara’s voice weakened.

Ouma turned back around and smiled, nonchalantly placing both hands behind his head. “Really? But isn’t that what happens to phantom thieves when they’re caught?” he asked.

_He’s a phantom thief…? Alright. _

“I’m not gonna do anything to you. Once I arrest you for good, you’re the cops’ problem.” A light bulb flickered in Saihara’s mind. “If you’re trying to rile me up or confuse me to give yourself a chance to escape… No dice, Ouma-kun.”

“Ah, figured it out already, huh.” Ouma gave him a grin, practically splitting his face. “Geeeez, I was willing to let you do whatever you want to me… since I love you, Shuichi…”

Saihara’s eyes widened. _Wait a minute. What?_

“But wow, who knew you even managed to figure out my name after all this time!” Ouma continued. He laughed. “Kinda startled me there, actually.”

“Hold on a sec, Ouma-kun--” Saihara stammered, palms suddenly feeling sweaty. “Did-- did you just call me _Shuichi?”_

Ouma tilted his head, puzzled. “Yeah? You’re the super famous detective, Saihara Shuichi. Been after me for a few months, but I evaded you every time!” He snickered. “You didn’t bump your head and get amnesia chasing me in here, didja?”

_I’m me? I’m… me? Myself, Saihara Shuichi?_

_His biggest fantasy involves me specifically?_

Saihara’s brain couldn’t handle this. At the very least, it explained why even his own clothes had changed… He bit his lip, cheeks turning pink in a dumbfounded stupor.

How could Ouma even_ do_ that? Akamatsu and Momota were thinking of generic other people. Iruma was thinking of that Iidabashi person, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that someone could imagine a specific person in their fantasy, but… Saihara didn’t think any of them would involve _himself._

But Ouma just… did that.

“Amnesia or not,” Ouma twisted his face, “If you’re not gonna do anything, then maybe I will.”

Before Saihara even had a chance to process it, Ouma’s grin was upon him.

“Ah!” Saihara jumped back reflexively.

Ouma pouted. “Sheesh, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything! You should know that after chasing me for so long. The crime part doesn’t excite me as much as being pursued by you, y’know?” He looked sadder. “Don’t you feel the same, Shuichi? You weren’t bored with me this whole time, were you?”

It had finally clicked in Saihara’s mind that Ouma’s ideal truly was himself-- though Ouma’s image of him was, frankly, not entirely accurate.

_I’ll just react as myself, then._

“I wouldn’t say--”

“Oh well, I don’t care what you think anyway!” Ouma interrupted, grinning again.

“...You just do as you please, don’t you, Ouma-kun,” Saihara replied drily. 

This was tiring. He was going in circles in the dream just as much as he normally did in real life. 

“Are you mad because I toyed with you?” Ouma asked curiously. “You don’t have to be. You’re always trying your best to catch me, so I actually have to give it my all to escape and win.”

Saihara narrowed his eyes. “You seem to be enjoying this quite a bit for a cornered criminal.”

Ouma shrugged. “The game’s not over yet. As long as your eyes are still on me, we can keep going.” He paused. “Hey, Shuichi… What would you do if I told you that I _wanted_ you to catch me?”

Saihara opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. “...I thought you didn’t care what I thought?”

Ouma’s face turned blank. “...That was a lie. Y’know… since I’m a liar.” He smiled sheepishly. “But when I said I wanted you to catch me… That definitely wasn’t a lie.”

“What… What do you mean?”

The face went back to blank again; Ouma took his hat and cape off and let it drop to the floor. “It means… you can do whatever you want to me. And that’s the truth.”

Saihara shivered.

“Come on… Shuichi…” Ouma whined, licking his lips as he inched closer. “Play with me… Let’s go further together…”

Saihara was suddenly very, _very_ aware of the fact that he was still in the Love Hotel.

For every step Ouma took forward, Saihara took one step back, until he hit the bed. But that didn’t deter Ouma-- he pushed Saihara onto the bed, pinning him by the wrists and staring into his eyes.

Ouma shifted, holding down both of Saihara’s wrists above his head with one hand and letting his other hand trail down Saihara’s cheek, gently caressing it. Saihara’s hat had long since fallen off, and his hair was splayed out around him, framing his flushed, bright red face.

“Ouma-kun-- wait--” Saihara choked out, squirming. 

_Even when we’re in an intimate position like this, I don’t understand you at all._

A pause. Then, Ouma pulled back, grinning as he released his hold and stepped away. “Ahaha… Just kidding. Did I getcha?”

Saihara blinked in shock, knees weak as he slid off the bed. “Eh… Wh...What? Ouma-kun?” 

Ouma didn’t answer, turning around to sprint towards the exit.

_Oh, no you fucking don’t. I’m not leaving here before I even start getting to figure you out. _Saihara grabbed him by the wrist, tightening his grip. "Wait, Ouma-kun." Ouma let out a struggling noise; Saihara didn’t let go. 

_Enough._ “I said ‘wait’, not ‘stop’,” Saihara said-- somewhat pleased that Ouma had actually taken his feelings into consideration even within his own fantasy. “You… What do you want from this?”

Ouma looked like he wanted to retort, so Saihara added on: “I’m not trying to pry as a detective, and the person I’m asking isn’t the phantom thief. This… This is a question from myself. From Saihara Shuichi to Ouma Kokichi.”

Silence. 

(They were both so, so terribly awkward when there were no pretenses between them, both in real life and in dreams.)

Saihara bored holes into Ouma, as if to stare straight into his soul, almost desperately trying to see who Ouma really was underneath all the lies and acts. Ouma put his other hand on top of the hand that Saihara was using to hold his wrist; Saihara took the hint and loosened his grip.

Then Ouma responded: "It’s not as fun when you don’t try to figure it out on your own… But since you’ve already got me, and this is obviously a dream anyway, I’ll humor you." 

Saihara’s breath hitched. It blew him away a little bit-- this was the first time he'd ever heard that kind of genuity from Ouma of the other boy’s own free will. At least, without him being injured and half-conscious. 

(...Wait, was Ouma aware that he was in the Love Hotel?)

Ouma let out a breath. “If there’s ever something I want for myself, and for the people I care about... Why should I force myself and others to live in an unideal world of truth and pain while trying to find it? Why should I do that when we can all be _happier_ living in a lie?” 

For some reason, it gave Saihara a headache...

Saihara’s mind spun, racing trying to figure it out. _What the hell does that mean? An ideal, painless life? _

_But more importantly… He included other people in his explanation._

_I was right. Ouma-kun’s not actually selfish-- and he doesn’t want us dead. The contradictions between all of this and what Ouma-kun said out loud after the trial don’t all add up. Naturally, he could be talking about people outside the killing game, or his organization, but--_

Ouma giggled, slipping through Saihara’s grasp and turning around. “That was a lie! Wow, I can’t believe you took that so seriously…”

Saihara flared, indignant-- but almost instantly calmed back down again. What Ouma just said was also a lie.

(Saihara liked that he was getting better at telling Ouma’s lies from his truths.)

Ouma bent down to pick up his hat and cape again, then brushed off imaginary dust from his suit as he put them back on. “Well! Thanks for this rare heart-to-heart opportunity, Mister Detective,” he grinned impishly. Saihara realized with a start that he was preparing to run away again. 

_I can’t let that happen._

There was another flash of realization: Saihara hadn’t actually gone along with any of the romantic aspects of Ouma’s fantasy at all. Not the same way he tried to indulge Kaede’s, or Momota’s, or even Iruma’s.

...Maybe he ought to amend that. Even if the Ouma in the Ultimate Academy wasn’t being open, Saihara didn’t want to just let him wake up from the scenario sad or disappointed.

Taking advantage of others within a dream, especially given Monokuma’s sketchy rules… Saihara felt uncomfortable with it, even after entering other fantasies so many times. _And lying aside, I’m still not confident I can act well. There’s also my own feelings to take into consideration here… _

Saihara still had his qualms about acting, but he supposed he could put them on hold for now. _Lying for the sake of someone’s happiness, huh… Alright._

He did the next best thing he could think of.

As Ouma turned around, Saihara caught him by the wrist again and yanked him into a hug from behind, wrapping Ouma in his arms. 

Ouma stiffened in surprise

“This is catch and release, Phantom Thief,” Saihara whispered into Ouma’s ear, doing his best to lower his voice. “Just once. I won’t let you or any stolen gems go next time.” He couldn’t see the exact expression on Ouma’s face, so he continued. “In return for all the times you've surprised me with your entertaining lies and heists... here's my answer to your feelings. I’ll play with you as long as we have each other."

_Wooooow, cheesy,_ Saihara thought, biting his lip. _In retrospect, that might’ve been too embarrassing to say out loud..._

Ouma let out a small squeak that Saihara couldn’t quite place... but his ears were red and the room felt hotter than normal, so that had to count for something, right? 

Ouma turned around within Saihara’s hold and slowly brought his hands up around Saihara, returning the hug with a small giggle, letting out a content sigh as he sank into the warmth. “Shuichi… I…” 

The image of the Love Hotel began to fade into white.

=

And when Saihara woke up again, mysteriously in his dorm room, he was more confused than he had been before he’d entered the Love Hotel. 

Burned into Saihara’s memory was his final moments in Ouma’s fantasy: the sight of Ouma smiling at him, cheeks glowing as he broke the hug, completely free of malice or mischief, with only fondness in his eyes.

_‘You have no idea how happy that made me.’_

A total contradiction as always. And yet…

Saihara got up from his bed and went to the bathroom, opening the tap to splash water on his face. _Focus. Think. What was the most important thing that happened there? ...Aside from the part with the bed._

Ouma’s exact goals weren’t apparent, but he valued happiness. And if he had to lie to make others happy, he’d do it. For him, the ends justified the means. 

_...Whatever his motive is, he’s not the type who’d enjoy killing us all. The way he looked in the trial room proves that._

Saihara’s head and throat were killing him; he decided to go back to bed. Analyzing Ouma like a puzzle was a pain, but now that he’d thought about it, Saihara was certain. He leaned over and turned off the lamp on his bedside table, letting his room fall into darkness. 

_‘Live and let the languid world live’...? I don’t think so. I’ll interfere. I’ll interrupt. I’ll make a racket if I have to._

_I’m not going to abandon him. I’m not going to let him believe that he should be alone._

_I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that we all escape this alive._

_=_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END SECTION 4.
> 
> This was one of the first few chapters I actually wrote while I was planning this whole AU, so it's kind of amazing to see it actually posted. Though I'm still sort of nervous about the quality ;;; At the very least, I hope the ship tease was fun. 
> 
> I hate how in canon Kaito literally COUGHS BLOOD out in front of these guys and they just. BELIEVE HIM WHEN HE SAYS IT'S A COLD??? lmao. you're not getting away with that bullshit here, spaceman.
> 
> I think the real make-it-or-break-it point of V3 was that one sentence from Saihara to Ouma after the fourth trial: "You're alone, and you always will be." That, imo, is what really broke Ouma for good, and is what ultimately set canon chapter 5 into motion. That one line of dialogue has literally haunted me and hurt my heart ever since I first heard it, and I feel honestly relieved to have now finally passed the point where Saihara says something different in my fic. 
> 
> As for the moment Saihara is talking about where Ouma said nobody would care if he died, that happens in 1-2 (chapter 3). The Love Hotel usage rules that Monokuma mentioned are from 1-1 (chapter 2). 
> 
> Please also note that morphine doesn't work the way it does in this fic IRL. If you tried drinking it the way these morons had Kaito do it, you would die. I'm not responsible for any injuries or deaths you might incur if you decide to rely on a Danganronpa fanfic instead of trusted medical resources!!!!!!!
> 
> Section 5 will start on ***Saturday**! Get ready gang :') I need a bit of a break, so it won't be a Thursday update. Apologies for the short notice and the wait!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	36. 5-1. Blood and Broken Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bond between friends, past and present, severed.
> 
> A bond between family, exploded.
> 
> A bond between a believer and a non-believer, unexpectedly still linked together despite everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter is late ; - ; I did need the break, but I sort of found myself in a slump and at a loss as to how to write what happens next. I was pretty worried and frankly a little paranoid that I'd end up procrastinating too hard, or that people would lose interest... which is honestly baseless, but I couldn't get those thoughts out of my head, ahaha. I love this story so much that I ended up making myself too scared.
> 
> But I tried and eventually got it done! This chapter is _pretty_ significant in terms of new stuff, so I'm happy that it turned out okay. Hopefully. Maybe. /////;;;;;// <strike>idk,,</strike>
> 
> Here begins section 5! The big one. This is the longest section of all of them, so... be prepared? Yeah!
> 
> Here we go.

When Ouma Kokichi woke up feeling strangely happy and warm inside instead of rightfully depressed, he was instantly on alert.

_Who did it? Who went into my fantasy?!_

Logically, Saihara was a likely bet, since he was so desperate to understand him or whatever the hell he was doing. But really, it could’ve been any of them. Yumeno was outside the Love Hotel the previous night, so it may have even been her…

He got out of bed and immediately set out to work, shoving some boxes aside and reworking his whiteboard. After that, Ouma decided to skim through his journal again and add necessary changes...

_Plan. Analyze them all and plan this out._

Just then, his doorbell rang.

Ouma froze. It was almost an entirely foreign sound to him-- nobody ever came to his room except Gonta, and even then, Gonta was the type to knock instead. 

The doorbell rang again, and Ouma was startled out of his shock. He turned right around and kept working. Saihara-- or at least, Ouma _assumed _it was Saihara; everyone else had been wary of him if not outright angry at him since the trial last night-- kept ringing his doorbell.

_No time or point in befriending anyone anymore. Ignore the doorbell and focus on your work._

_Do what you have to do to save them, even if it means dying or failure. _

=

“Just because I lied about being a child caregiver doesn’t mean I’m actually gonna be your sick nurse,” Harukawa furrowed her brows.

Momota coughed, then stared up at her from his bed with a scowl. “I don’ wanna be looked aft’r ‘ny-ay…” He coughed some more, then turned over so that he wasn’t facing Harukawa. “Plus… you’ll get…”

Harukawa tsked, then pulled the blanket over him. “Sleep.” Momota looked too sick to listen, so she figured there wasn’t much point in telling him that she was more or less immune to ordinary illnesses. Of course, his blood coughing thing was clearly unordinary, but… surely something as chronic-looking as that wasn’t contagious.

She sat down by his bed and stared. 

Really, Harukawa was pissed. Pissed at Momota for not saying anything, and at herself for not realizing something this serious was up with him.

It reminded her of Hoshi, in a strange way. 

If Hoshi had said anything, or if Harukawa had noticed how he was feeling after he watched his motive video… If she’d only just stayed by his side, or spent time with him instead of letting him wander back to his lab that night--

_No._ Harukawa toyed with her ponytail to distract herself; she sighed. Thinking about people who were long gone or regretting the things she didn’t do wouldn’t do any good. There was also the previous trial to think about… How loathsome Ouma was acting, and how annoying it was seeing Saihara still go out of his way to try and include Ouma with the rest of them.

Harukawa wasn’t heartless-- obviously part of why he was acting had to do with the fact that he almost died, and Saihara was probably worried about that. But with a liar like Ouma, you never knew what was really going on.

(Harukawa was taught to doubt before ever trusting, and it hadn’t failed her yet.)

Momota had already fallen asleep. Harukawa put a hand on his forehead. “Not burning, so you should probably be alright when you wake up…” She sighed.

_Please be okay, Kaito._

_And for the love of fuck… don’t hide this sort of stuff from us anymore._

=

Hours after he’d first attempted contacting Ouma, and with much reluctance, Saihara left the dorm area.

_He’s either avoiding me on purpose, or he’s wandering somewhere else. I even did pushups here in between the rings so it wouldn’t seem like I was there the whole time, but he’s not opening it for anyone. And I’m not persistent enough to stand here all day. So…_

Saihara decided to go out. Fresh air in the courtyard couldn’t hurt, right? Well, as fresh as it could be, since they were all in a glass cage…

“Good morning, Saihara-kun,” Kiibo waved at him from a short distance away. Saihara jogged towards him.

“Good morning, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara returned politely. He blinked. _Kiibo-kun’s eyes look a lot baggier lately..._

“Would you like to walk with me?” Kiibo asked. “Just around the courtyard.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s a lot on my mind, and I didn’t sleep at all last night because of…”

Saihara understood the feeling. “Sure,” he agreed. 

They walked quietly, with only each other’s breathing and calming presence next to them. After a while, Kiibo finally spoke up.

“Saihara-kun… after Akamatsu-san died, did you go to the Love Hotel to see her again?”

Saihara stopped in his tracks, brows furrowing. “What--”

“I’m--” Kiibo interrupted him. He sighed. “I’m wondering if it gave you any memory headaches. If you did go, that is.”

“Did…” Saihara’s gaze softened. “Did you go there last night to see Iruma-san?”

Kiibo nodded, solemnly lowering his gaze. “I miss her.”

“Mm…” There wasn’t much Saihara could say in terms of comfort. No matter what pleasantries he could try, the fact of the matter was that the killing game caused her death.

“But when I went in there,” Kiibo said softly, “her fantasy just…”

_Oh,_ Saihara realized with a start. _Right, I was wondering-- _“Did you see something about Iidabashi?” 

Kiibo looked up at him, grimacing. “See, there it is again!” he groaned. “Ever since then-- maybe even before that, when you asked me about it before we went into the virtual world-- that name’s been making my inner voice go crazy.” He paused. “Hey, wait a minute. How did you first learn about this Iidabashi person?”

Would it be bad to tell Kiibo the truth? _‘Oh, yeah, I went into your girlfriend’s biggest fantasy and acted like the guy she liked. She even told me to do whatever I wanted to her. Just little adulterous things!’ _

_Yeah, no way am I doing that,_ Saihara thought. “Um--” he bit his lip. “It showed up in one of my memory headaches, actually.” 

(It wasn’t technically a lie.)

“Huh… Okay,” Kiibo sighed. 

“I did go to the Love Hotel after Kaede died,” Saihara admitted. “It hurt, but I was happy to see her.” He frowned. “But I didn’t get memory headaches with hers.”

“So it’s not a matter about the Love Hotel, but about the name Iidabashi itself,” Kiibo mused. Suddenly, there was a thick, metal clanking noise. “Hm?”

“You probably hit a rock,” Saihara said, stopping slightly ahead of him. Kiibo moved his foot.

Then, he froze. 

“Saihara-kun,” Kiibo whispered, urgently. “Come here. You need to read this.”

“What is it?” Saihara came over. “Oh, the rock with…” the words died in his mouth as he read the full sentence.

This world is mine.

\--Ouma Kokichi

“What…” Saihara’s throat felt dry all of a sudden. _‘This world is mine, Ouma Kokichi’?_ “What is this?!”

“We have to go show the others,” Kiibo insisted. Quickly, using his camera function, he took a picture. “Come on--”

Just then, a school bell rang. “Attention, students! Please assemble in the gym! I have something veeery important to tell you all! Again, please assemble in the gym!” Monokuma’s voice rang out throughout the cage.

“We can tell them once we reach the gym,” Saihara nodded, already breaking into a run for the academy. “Let’s go!”

=

“Everyone’s here except Ouma, huh,” Monokuma commented drily. “Can’t say I didn’t expect it, but really, now…”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Monophanie yawned. “There are some things you can never control.” She beamed. “Like dreams!”

“Upupu… Well, _my_ daddy seems to be worried about something,” Monokuma’s eye gleamed, “so I’ll let you all talk about whatever it is you need to talk about before giving my super special announcement.”

“The rock,” Kiibo turned urgently. He printed the picture that he’d taken and showed it to the others. “Everyone, the rock with the words has a finished statement on it.”

“I was there with him,” Saihara affirmed. “The rock said--”

“‘This world is mine, Ouma Kokichi’?” Harukawa quoted, her gaze darkening. 

“Fucking…” Momota looked like death, but still managed to grit out the word. 

“So th-this was the finished message?” Shirogane shivered. “That’s so scary!”

“It means he’s either the mastermind, or he’s hijacking something,” Harukawa bit her thumbnail. “Either way, the timing was absolutely intentional.”

“The former,” Momota coughed.

“I don’t know…” Yumeno furrowed her brows. “It doesn’t make sense for the mastermind to write that on some random rock, does it?”

“What do you mean, Yumeno-san?” Kiibo asked.

“I mean--” Yumeno paused, trying to gather the right words. “Anyone could stumble upon it. There’s no guarantee that the whole audience-- er, all of us participants-- will be there at once.”

“Huh?” Shirogane blinked.

“It’s basic stage performance,” Yumeno sniffed, taking out a deck of trick cards and shuffling it to give her hands something to do. “If you’re a magician, and you’re about to do a big trick like that, you have to make sure as many people as possible are watching when you do it. If nobody’s watching, the magic loses its charm.” 

“Hm…” It wasn’t the kind of logic Saihara was used to thinking of, but it made startling sense. “I think Yumeno-san is right,” he finally said. “The mastermind of this game… or anyone behind a killing game like this-- something like this isn’t something you’d do just because. It’s a spectacle. It makes more sense for them to want us all to be there to see them reveal themselves.”

“I suppose putting it on a rock for us to gradually discover is a lot more anticlimactic,” Kiibo sighed.

Momota grunted. “Y’all’re overthinkin’ it. Kiibo ‘n Yumeno… He’s a liar, and he’s counting on us to think too hard ‘bout what he’d do. Ouma ain’t a magician or a performer. He’s a liar, plain ‘n simple.”

“Don’t steal my catchphrase, please,” Shirogane bit her lip.

(Saihara decided not to dwell on the fact that Momota was still ignoring him.)

“The phrasing sounds less like he’s the mastermind in charge,” Saihara said carefully, “and more like he’s stealing something.”

He wasn’t wrong, was he? Saihara read a lot, and now that he thought about it, this phrase on the rock didn’t quite read like a mastermind’s unveiling. It felt more like Ouma was saying,_ ‘This world is mine now. It doesn’t belong to you anymore!’ _

...Like a Phantom Thief. 

“N-No, I think Momota-kun is right,” Shirogane trembled. “Ouma-kun… You heard him at the last trial. He’s still fine with lying to us. He could be j-just-- you know, tricking us. It could be a big-- trap, or something…”

“If this were a trial, I’d call for a scrum debate,” Monokuma sighed. “But we’re not in one, so instead I’ll just tell you brats to shut the fuck up.” He paused. Then: “Shut the fuck up.”

Monophanie snickered.

“That aside…” Shirogane said quietly. “Monophanie-san… You’re the only Monokub left now.”

“She always was my favorite!” Monokuma laughed. “Anyway… We’re now in a new stage of the game. My new announcement to you all is--”

“--something that no longer matters,” Monophanie said coolly, a wide grin on her face. Out of nowhere, she held up a gun, aiming it straight at Monokuma. “So don’t worry about it.”

Everyone looked at her, stunned into silence. 

“Wha--” Monokuma froze. “What are you-- Where did you get--”

“Your time is over, Daddy,” Monophanie crooned, unlocking the safety and firmly gripping the trigger. “Thanks for jump-starting everything for me! I’ll make sure the rest of this project stays interesting.” 

The headache that followed was intense for everyone. Shirogane was frozen, trembling and deathly pale; Momota wobbled and coughed; Harukawa and Yumeno shivered; Kiibo clutched his head; and Saihara felt like his brain was swimming again, surrounded by mint and perfume, with more voices in his head--

_ **where you were hiding** _

A voice. Somewhat sultry and low, but Saihara instinctively seemed to remember that this voice was normally higher-pitched than that.

** _How cute_ **

He felt utterly paralyzed. It was inescapable, claustrophobic; ice-cold fear ran through his veins. _We have to get out we have to get out we have to get out we have to get--_

** _…is dead now, which means I can finally_ **

** __ ** _Wait, who died? Who are you talking about? And what were they trying to--_

_ **say goodnight, my darling** _

** __ ** _No no no no no NO NO NO--_

** _DON’T BREATHE--_ **

_Wait a minute, this is--!_

Saihara broke away from his headache, breathing heavy.

Two voices. The first was someone he feared, who he couldn’t remember just yet.

The second, the one that always said not to breathe… was the voice of Ouma Kokichi.

Saihara’s mind raced. _The person who was telling me not to breathe was--_

“You can’t do this to me,” Monokuma insisted, looking both angry and scared, and Saihara froze. “Sweetie--”

“You always were a terrible father,” Monophanie mused. “But you taught me well enough, I guess. I’ll continue our experiment.” She grinned. “And I’ll do it _my_ way. Upupu…”

The gunshot rang out before anyone else could say anything, and Monokuma exploded into pieces like confetti, falling to the floor with little other fanfare. A bluish liquid, reminiscent of blood, oozed on the gym floor under his metal parts.

“What the fuck?” Harukawa whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

The gun clattered to the floor; Monophanie took a purposeful step over her father’s corpse towards the students. “There are new areas of the academy that’ve been opened,” she said sweetly, sharply. 

“H-Hold on,” Saihara stammered, sweating. He took a shaky step back, pointing back and forth between Monophanie and Monokuma. “What just--”

“What just happened?” Yumeno clutched her hat, voice small. “What did you just do?!”

“I got rid of a nuisance,” Monophanie quipped. She waved a paw dismissively. “Don’t worry about the body; it’ll just disappear like all the others.” She tilted her head, pouting. “Or do you guys just not want a cute widdle bear girl hosting the game? Boo, how sexist.”

_Everyone else’s bodies? _Saihara’s eyes widened. _Wait, that’s right-- what did they do with all our friends after they died…? The place is locked everywhere; she can’t just say they all vanished without a trace-- _

“The host really doesn’t matter here,” Kiibo grimaced. “More importantly, Monophanie… what are you planning? Are you on your own or working with the mastermind?”

=

_She’s not working with the mastermind, _Shirogane thought, crazed. _The mastermind herself had no clue about any of this!_

This wasn’t in her plans. Things were going all wrong--

<strike>And Monophanie’s acting so much like--</strike>

_Was it Ouma? _Ideas raced through Shirogane’s mind. _He’s not here, but… No, Ouma couldn’t know anything about this. His character isn’t like this. He’s still too deep in his own thoughts to realize…_

_Then… who is it? What’s going on?_

_I’m supposed to be in control here, so what’s happening and why?!_

=

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Monophanie winked. A sparkle came out of her eye.

Kiibo frowned. “That doesn’t answer our questions…”

Monophanie pouted. “Sheesh, you shoot a guy to death and suddenly people think you’re the only expert around.” She sighed. “Well, whatever! To save you lot some time, the unlocked places are the tower connected to the fifth floor and the exisal hangar complex.” She grinned. “The motive comes later. Have fun exploring.”

And then she walked out.

“What,” Momota rasped.

“Same,” Yumeno whimpered.

“I’ll…” Momota sighed, clearly looking annoyed and conflicted. “‘m gonna go sit in my room. Too much shit’s happened…”

“I’ll go with you,” Harukawa said quietly. The two of them left.

Saihara stayed quiet. There wasn’t much he could say. No dramatic _‘wait, Kaito!’ _or other cinematic scene would work to patch up what had broken only the day before. It was too delicate.

Momota wanted to explore, but couldn’t because of his illness. He didn’t get along with Ouma and didn’t want to. Nothing Saihara said or did would change that at the drop of a hat.

“I’ll go check out the hangar complex,” he finally said.

Kiibo got up, walking towards him. “I’ll go with you, Saihara-kun. Shall we leave?”

Saihara smiled, suddenly feeling a bit better. “Thank you, Kiibo-kun.”

=

The exisal hangar complex was… interesting. Namely in that there wasn’t a lot there. 

“There are exisals for each Monokub even though only Monophanie is left,” Kiibo noted. “The whole area’s rather big.” He turned to look at Saihara.

Saihara was pensive, looking like he was thinking hard about something or other. Usually, the other boy was quiet, but these days, he tended to talk a lot more openly.

He was a smart person. And kind, and helpful in his own way.

(Kiibo knew full well how even geniuses had things that bothered them.)

“Is something wrong?” Kiibo asked gently. Saihara startled, then looked a bit sheepish.

“Mm… I’m just thinking.”

The two of them walked to the other side, where the actual hangar entrance was.

“A code, huh,” Saihara tsked quietly. “And an electric force field? Maybe there are clues around here…?”

“I doubt it,” Kiibo looked around. “This is a hangar, not an escape room.”

“Oh, here, I’ll open it,” Monophanie appeared out of _thin air _next to them_._ Saihara shrieked; Kiibo sucked in a breath, biting his lip.

[“6942053,”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770709/chapters/46801855) Monophanie said, rapidly tapping on the number keys. “And a bunch of other numbers I won’t say just because there’s no point, since you won’t be able to memorize it anyway.” The electric force field disabled, opening up the hangar. Just as suddenly as she arrived, Monophanie disappeared. 

“What even…” Kiibo shook his head. “Let’s go in…”

“You seem tired lately, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara pointed out, observing the hangar. “Your eyes are baggy.”

“So were yours,” Kiibo replied, poking an exisal. “With Akamatsu-san, that is. But with Momota-kun and Ouma-kun, you seem to be bottling in your pain.”

“Yelling at them for several hours straight isn’t bottling in my pain,” Saihara retorted.

“It is when you pretend you aren’t hurt by what Momota-kun said, Saihara-kun,” Kiibo turned around, stubborn. “I think his anger was unjustified, and I think you’re right to pursue the truth instead of your own ideals, but he _did_ have a point when he said that you were getting more and more caught up in playing the detective and leading us.”

Saihara glared at Kiibo for a moment, then sighed, putting a hand on his forehead. He giggled. “When did we both become so irritable?”

Kiibo also relaxed, smiling. 

Saihara sighed again. “It’s just… hard, you know? Ouma-kun won’t open up to me either, and I just… don’t think he’s the mastermind. My memories…” He paused.

“Your memories?” Kiibo prompted. 

Saihara spoke the next words in a more hushed voice. “He’s always there. Somehow. His voice, or words he’s said… And I remember how he was before all of this stuff happened. It’s almost like he’s a different person.”

Kiibo tilted his head, thoughtful. “My inner voice doesn’t work the same way… but it seems like you’re supposed to be close to him.”

Saihara’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “Sure…”

_He’s blushing, _Kiibo realized. “You’re blushing,” he pointed out.

Saihara blushed even more. “Th-- Don’t say that so openly!”

“Ah, was that tactless?” Kiibo raised his hands, somewhat apologetic. “I know people in Japan aren’t usually that direct, but--”

“It’s fine,” Saihara shook his head, returning to investigate the hangar. “Everyone blushes from time to time. Even you.”

His inner voice murmured at that, causing his head to feel strange, and Kiibo frowned. “But I’m a robot?”

Saihara shrugged. “You do a lot of oddly human things, Kiibo-kun. I’ve wondered about it for a while.” 

_Oddly human things…? He did mention blushing and eating and sweating before, but..._

Saihara seemed to be satisfied with the end of that conversation, because he turned around and looked up at the big metal contraption in the hangar before Kiibo could ask him anything else. Saihara put his hand over his mouth again. “A hydraulic press, huh,” he observed. “It could be dangerous…”

Kiibo walked over, reading the label nearby. It was full of warnings, hazards, much other mumbo jumbo he didn’t particularly care for in fascinatingly small print. “Hm… Apparently the start and stop button is higher up, past that ramp,” he pointed. 

Saihara followed Kiibo’s finger. “That protects the person doing the crushing, but what about the thing underneath?”

“Apparently, the press has an auto-lock that stops it from going all the way down if it detects a person,” Kiibo paraphrased the label.

Saihara put a pensive finger over his mouth. “So does that mean humans or robots…?”

_Internalized robophobia._ Kiibo sighed. Microaggressions like these never quite went away, no matter where he was. Saihara meant well, and was already dealing with a lot mentally, so Kiibo would let it slide just this once. “We can always test it out.”

Saihara blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I trust you, Saihara-kun!” Kiibo smiled. “I’ll lie down under here, and you go up there. If it doesn’t protect me, then press the stop button. If I feel in danger, I’ll just slide out.”

“Okay…” Saihara sounded dubious, but more or less agreed, going up the stairs to the button.

Kiibo laid down under the press, ignoring how cold and metallic it felt against his frame. “I’m ready!”

“Okay,” Saihara repeated. “I’m pressing the start button now.”

The press made loud, janky noises as it slowly came down. 

It continued down.

And further down…

_Crap, it’s not stopping--! _A yelp on his tongue, Kiibo rolled out, saving himself in the nick of time before the machine crashed all the way down onto the metal plate. 

=

Saihara stared at the press. Sleekness and metallic design aside, Saihara couldn’t ignore the fact that it _didn’t stop for Kiibo at all. _That put his friend at a greater risk than all of them, if the machine’s automatic locking function was even true to begin with.

He wasn’t too keen on testing it out with himself this time instead of Kiibo.

_Every time, there’s always one place in the new unlocked areas that could be used to murder. And this time… This hydraulic press seems like the most obvious choice._

Kiibo grumbled about _‘clear, unmitigated robophobia’_, getting up-- surely to give Saihara an indignant lecture on how he should’ve pushed the stop button. Saihara made his way down the steps, grimacing at Kiibo and warily eyeing the press the whole way.

As his foot left the last step and touched the ground, Saihara felt an excruciating pain in his head. 

_“AArgh--!”_

The world was blurry, blurry, swimming around him.

A brand new voice-- familiar, but somehow far away, like he hadn’t heard it in ages --penetrated through his watery surroundings. 

_ **Saihara-kun** _

She was talking to him, speaking like normal, but all other words garbled. Saihara shakily stood up. Just like the last few times, it was more like seeing a memory play out with voices instead of simply words coming into his head. 

** _goal_ **

**__**_My goal? The goal of the mastermind? The goal of the killing game? _Saihara wanted to scream._ Who even are you?_

** _protect the truth_ **

_Protect the truth? How can I protect what I don’t even know to begin with?_

_ **win the game ** _

Something dull in the back of Saihara’s mind was trying to get him to remember. Remember the person, remember her words-- but he couldn’t recall the rest of the conversation.

_ **best ending** _

_WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!_

_ **cut the cord to the hydraulic press.** _

Saihara broke out of his memories in a cold sweat.

“Saihara-kun?!” Kiibo yelped, gently shaking him by the shoulders. “Saihara-kun, are you alright?!”

That’s it. Cut the cord. Cut the cord._ Cut the cord. _

It was her words. Her, her,_ her, _from back then, from back-- _somewhere. _What memory was this? The place was blurry, the girl’s face was still blurry, and he didn’t even remember her name, but she was achingly familiar, and he _remembered_ _something._

_‘You have to cut the cord to the hydraulic press,’ _she had said.

Like a man possessed, Saihara pulled himself out of Kiibo’s concerned hold and ambled towards the thick cord connecting the hydraulic press to its power source. “Kiibo-kun,” he breathed. “Don’t. Move.”

Kiibo stood frozen. “S-Saihara-kun? What are you--”

With all the precision of a bulldozer in a daisy field, Saihara ripped apart the power cord, his toned arm muscles clenching as he used all the force he could muster to destroy it. The wires fell in frayed bundles, and the hydraulic press laid unmoving. 

Saihara ran up the stairs again, pushing the buttons impatiently. _This is the only way to test it for sure._

The machine didn’t budge. 

Saihara breathed a sigh of relief, then returned down. All the while, Kiibo had obediently stayed still.

“Saihara-kun?” Kiibo asked, voice small.

“Sorry,” Saihara said. “Sorry, I… You can move now. I just got a really bad headache, and another weird memory that made me feel like I had to do that…”

At this Kiibo looked interested. “What kind of memory?” 

Saihara worried his lower lip between his teeth. “There was a familiar girl… Nobody from the killing game, but someone from before it. And she said to win the game and get the best ending, I have to cut the cord to the hydraulic press,” he confessed.

Kiibo’s eyebrows (did robots _really_ have eyebrows?) rose. “That sounds incredibly suspicious, in my opinion. Are you sure you can trust those words?”

“I… I don’t know,” Saihara admitted. “But remembering her, it felt… It felt like she was trustworthy.”

“If you say so,” Kiibo said, still sounding doubtful. He looked about. “There isn’t much else here aside from the exisals and the press.” He poked his head behind a door on the room’s left side. “There’s a bathroom here with a small window, but nothing else.”

Saihara peeked into the room after him, just to be sure. Just as Kiibo said, there wasn’t much else in the hangar. 

“Then…” Saihara paused. “I guess we can go.”

=

Teardrops stained his journals as he wrote, using pen after pen, but Ouma didn’t care. His descent into mastermindery had to be believable enough.

There was no time to lose.

_New areas should’ve unlocked. If I’m right, they should be Momota’s lab and the exisal hangar. With Iruma’s remote, I can control an exisal and get them to see the outside world’s secret in the Death Road. Make them feel morose to the point that they won’t want to continue the game._

_Momota’s sick and clearly dying. If I can take advantage of that and temporarily kidnap him, it’ll add on more to the feeling._

_If the remaining lot still try to pursue me, I can create a fake death scenario using the hydraulic press and some supplies from an infirmary… then hide in the exisal with Momota when they discover it, and lead them to an invalid trial, which would end the game with the real mastermind._

_Momota will have to work together with me, but knowing how he and Harukawa are, it shouldn’t be hard to manipulate… Yumeno, Kiibo, and Shirogane, too. Even if they’re all technically against me in this game, as long as I put on an act, I can temporarily stay on top._

_And… Saihara…_

Ouma’s heart clenched, thinking back to the words the other boy told him after the trial, after his own execution.

Saihara cared. Saihara believed in him, as stupid as that was.

Ouma shook his head and kept writing, trying to force the thoughts out of his head. _Stop thinking ‘what if’. Just focus on your plan._

But he couldn’t. Even through the memories of Momota choking on blood and of Saihara yelling at so many people, of Saihara’s and Momota’s friendship breaking, Ouma couldn’t get those words out of his head.

_‘You’re alone, Ouma-kun… But I don’t understand why you have to be.’_

He couldn’t let himself have faith like that. He couldn’t let himself think that there was a chance, a _slim chance_ that he wasn’t as far gone as he thought he was.

(And yet… it was a comforting lie to believe in.)

Ouma wiped his eyes and continued writing.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you expected that Ouma would survive, which I'll admit was a rational thing to realize. But I bet none of you knew Monokuma was gonna die! Ahahahahaha.
> 
> Because of the break I took, the next one or two chapters after this will most likely also be late. However, I intend to at least try to get them posted by the usual Tuesday/Thursday update days.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	37. 5-2. The Gofer Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yumeno makes an unexpected observation.
> 
> Shirogane makes an unexpected friend.
> 
> Saihara realizes an unexpected skill of his own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I'm still trying to work around my new schedule this semester, but luckily I think Tuesdays and Thursdays can still work! I might have to post them in the afternoon like I am now though, lol.
> 
> We're slowly getting there... I hope you guys like this chapter!

Harukawa had gone to watch over Momota. Kiibo had gone with Saihara. And Ouma was alone in an unknown place, doing whatever it was that suspicious people did.

_Well, then, _Yumeno thought._ That leaves me with… _

“Shirogane,” Yumeno said, tugging on the taller girl’s sleeve. “Let’s go to the tower by the fifth floor?”

“H-Huh?” Shirogane trembled.

“Let’s go explore together,” Yumeno blinked up at her. _It’d be bad to leave someone so obviously startled alone. And she also seems like she’s the clumsy type, and on top of her being a scaredy-cat, that isn’t a good combination…_ “It’s better if you have a partner with you.”

“Oh…” Shirogane smiled at her. “S-Sure, Yumeno-san.”

They walked together.

“I wonder what we’ll… um…” Shirogane fidgeted. “I wonder what we’ll find there, huh…”

Yumeno raised a brow. “Nyeh… I don’t really care one way or another…”

Shirogane stayed quiet, but continued fidgeting, her eyes shifting left and right.

It was odd, in Yumeno’s opinion, how fixated Shirogane was on the new places. And she still seemed really nervous, even though it had more or less been a month since they’d first been trapped in the academy. 

It was weird. Yumeno wasn’t sure how to deal with weird. Her own brand of weird was fine, and so was Tenko’s and Angie’s, but Shirogane’s type of weird was...well, _weird._

But Shirogane also seemed to be pretty stressed, and had been through a lot, so… Yumeno wouldn’t judge. 

“A spiral staircase?” Yumeno paused at its base, looking up at the curves in dismay. “You’re kidding…” _This many stairs is too much! Would it kill this place to have an elevator?!_

“W-Well…” Shirogane smoothed out her skirt and sighed. “It can’t be helped. Let’s go up.”

=

_She’s sticking to me like a leech, ugh. How annoying... This is bad… How’d she survive this long, anyway?_

“Shiroganeeee,” Yumeno heaved, already tired before even climbing half the steps. “P-Please… Wait up…”

Shirogane waited patiently, then walked up at Yumeno’s pace once the latter caught up. _But, _she thought, _I can use it to my advantage._

“The Ultimate Astronaut lab, huh,” Yumeno looked around, then wrinkled her nose, letting out an irritated ‘hmph’ noise. She wrinkled her nose. “I climbed all those stairs for _this? _It’s lame as hell!”

_Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t-- _Shirogane snorted, then covered her mouth, biting back giggles. “D-Don’t say that, Yumeno-san,” Shirogane chided, choking down her amusement.

“Why not?” Yumeno raised a brow, then walked inside the space simulator area, looking at the starry ceiling. “It’s like a space-obsessed eight-year-old boy’s bedroom.”

“Whoever made it might cry if you keep insulting it,” Shirogane frowned.

“...If they’re working with whoever trapped us all here, then I’m fine with making them cry,” Yumeno replied quietly. She shuffled further, stiffening upon noticing a big panel with hundreds of buttons and switches. The look on Yumeno’s face was like a cat that was about to knock something off a table. 

_Please no. _“Don’t touch it,” Shirogane warned. 

Yumeno pouted, retracting her curious hand. “Nyeh… Why not?”

“What if this place works like an-- an actual rocket?!” Shirogane whisper-yelled. “And we get launched into space or something?!”

Yumeno snorted. “As if our captors would _actually_ give Momota the ability to launch himself into space.”

“It-- It could be true!” Shirogane insisted indignantly.

“Shirogane,” Yumeno deadpanned. “You fool. He’s an idiot.”

_How dare she! He’s one of the deepest characters I’ve written! _“H-He’s smart and has a compelling backstory!” Shirogane furrowed her brows. 

Yumeno looked unimpressed. “Okay, but he’s also an idiot.”

“No, you just--” Shirogane paused, realizing just how out of character she was getting. _That won’t do; I can’t get heated-- but goddammit, I wanna argue--! _She sighed, grimacing and deciding to cool down. “I-It’s just not… It’s j-just not nice to talk like that about-- about, you know, our friends.”

Yumeno paused. Then, she turned around and continued exploring. “You’re actually pretty fun when you get passionate.”

Shirogane blinked. “Huh?”

“Maybe you really are anxious all the time and just forgot for a few seconds,” Yumeno said, poking at the planetarium-like ceiling lights. “But when you let go of that act and just be yourself, all mad and angry, I actually kinda like you.” 

Shirogane’s brain tried and failed to comprehend exactly where this revelation came from. “I’m not into romance,” she finally blurted.

“Good for you?” Yumeno blinked. “I’m not hitting on you, Shirogane. I’m just saying.”

“Oh,” Shirogane chuckled awkwardly. 

“I’m in love with Tenko anyway,” Yumeno yawned.

Shirogane stood awkwardly. “Ahaha… Good.”

“I thought I was the only one for you, cosplay-chan!” Monophanie pouted, showing up out of nowhere. Both girls shrieked.

“W-Who are-- what--” Shirogane stammered. She froze. _Why does it smell like mint and perfume all of a sudden…?_

“You _reek!”_ Yumeno pinched her nose shut with one hand and held her head with the other. She grit her teeth. “Take a bath or something, sheesh! Did you mouse your whole body in perfume?!”

“You mean douse,” Shirogane corrected, at the same time Monophanie replied, “I’m a bear.”

“Whatever!” Yumeno fumed. “Just make the headache go away!”

“After everything I’ve done to help you realize the truth, you go with some other girl?” Monophanie ignored her and talked to Shirogane, pretending to cry. “How _could_ you! Waaaaaaaa!”

“L-Like I said…” Shirogane trailed off. _Monophanie isn’t programmed to do this. It’s--_

_ <strike>her</strike> _

<strike> _It’s her_ </strike>

<strike> _I can’t fight back_ </strike>

<strike> _I can’t..._ </strike>

“You’re disgusting,” Yumeno pulled out the magician saw she kept in her jacket, and Monophanie suddenly went quiet. “Get out and let us investigate in peace.”

Monophanie’s sobs turned into an impish grin. “Upupu… I’d prefer you threaten me with a knife, if anything, but I guess a saw’s good enough.”

And then she vanished.

Yumeno blinked, saw still in hand. “Did she--”

“She just disappeared,” Shirogane said numbly. _<strike>But she’s still here. She’ll always be unless I fight back. And so are--</strike>_

Yumeno sighed, putting the saw away. “I don’t get it. The longer we stay here, the more there’s weird, unexplainable stuff…”

“It-- it could be magic,” Shirogane tried to joke. Yumeno stayed quiet.

_This is bad. The longer she sticks with me, the more the audience has a chance at noticing my own existence as a character…! In order to cover this up, and because we’re further into the story, I’ll have to reveal more of season 53’s plot!_

Shirogane walked around the lab, then gravitated to the hidden room that she knew of as naturally as possible. “E-Eh? What’s this…?” She gasped. “Y-Yumeno-san, come here!”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno popped her head around the doorway. “Did you find something?” She stepped in. “Pods…?’

Shirogane trembled, biting her lip. “T-There’s a console that looks like the motive videos thing… I-- I’m sorry, Yumeno-san, I’m just-- really worried…”

“Don’t touch it then,” Yumeno furrowed her brows. “It looks all white and sterile here…” she trailed off, eyes widening. She touched her forehead.

“A-Are you getting a headache?” Shirogane asked. She feigned pain herself. “B-Because I am, too…”

“What should we do?” Yumeno whispered.

“Bring the others here, definitely,” Shirogane shivered. “I-If Monokuma or Monophanie, um… If they w-wanted us to, um, find something like this… It should still be here when we get back, right?”

“Makes sense,” Yumeno frowned, still suspicious of the device. “Kiibo and Saihara went to the exisal hangar place, so we can go get Momota and Harukawa first.”

“A-And Ouma-kun,” Shirogane added. “Or not?”

“Saihara might object, but I don’t trust Ouma,” Yumeno sniffed. “Execution aside… he’s clearly not on our side if he’s willing to keep acting like that.”

“T-That’s fine!” Shirogane hurried. “I don’t mind leaving him out. Let’s go find the other four.”

_And then they can all learn about the Gofer Project._

=

Momota and Harukawa were in his room when Yumeno and Shirogane arrived.

“We found something suspicious in the lab,” Yumeno blurted. 

“It’s _your_ lab, Momota-kun!” Shirogane elaborated helpfully. “The Ultimate Astronaut lab. All that’s left to find now is Ouma-kun’s lab, and…” she faltered a bit, forcing a smile. “Amami-kun’s lab.”

At this Momota perked up a bit. Even though he hated the academy, he couldn’t deny the curiosity burning within him-- he’d wanted to see what sort of lab he’d have for a while now.

“That aside, how are you feeling, Momota?” Yumeno asked. 

“You should ask that first, genius,” Harukawa rolled her eyes.

Yumeno sighed. “My brain’s mush because Monophanie came out of nowhere and said some pretty lesbian-y stuff to Shirogane while we were investigating.”

Shirogane blushed, stammering. “Y-Yumeno-san, don’t talk about weird stuff like that!”

_Do I even wanna know? _Momota thought tiredly.“I’m doin’ fine, Yumeno,” he replied to her question, giving her a thumbs up. He grinned, getting out of his bed and doing a few jumping jacks for show.“Much better, in fact! I’m totally fine now. See?”

Harukawa gave him a Look. Momota waved it off. “Let’s go, then,” he beamed. “We’re both ready.”

=

“Oh!” Saihara blinked. “Hey, everyone.”

Saihara and Kiibo had decided to go up to the fifth floor to investigate the other unlocked area, and maybe meet Shirogane and Yumeno, who according to Saihara’s deductions, were probably investigating that area together.

“Hey,” Harukawa nodded in acknowledgement. Momota did not.

(It turned awkward kinda fast after that.)

“Let’s just go,” Kiibo suggested. “We’re already almost there, aren’t we? Look, there’s the stairs Monophanie-san told us about!”

“The long, unnecessary spiral staircase,” Yumeno grumbled, halfheartedly presenting it. They all climbed the steps and walked into the Ultimate Astronaut lab.

It had a very… well, starry vibe to it. It looked absolutely perfect for an astronaut, for a person like Momota. In fact… it rather reminded Saihara of Momota’s fantasy that he’d seen all those weeks ago. Saihara briefly turned to the boy himself to gauge his reaction. Momota’s eyes were wide, shining, and a little bit wistful. 

“It’s perfect,” Momota grinned, heatedly pumping his fists. He coughed. “It’s adventurous. Soaring into the sky. It suits the Luminary of the Stars perfectly!”

(And then Saihara remembered-- the Luminary of the Stars didn’t want much to do with him.)

“I said it looked like an elementary schooler’s bedroom and Shirogane got defensive,” Yumeno scoffed. Shirogane protested; Momota turned red and Harukawa turned to hide her snickering.

“So, Shirogane,” Harukawa sighed, done with laughing. “What’s the thing you wanted to show us?”

“You both found something here?” Kiibo blinked. “Saihara-kun and I--” he looked to Saihara, a serious look on his face. “We didn’t find anything major in the exisal hangar.”

Saihara’s eyes widened for a slight second; then, he played along. “Ah… yeah.”

Shirogane nodded hesitantly. “It-- it was in a room hidden in the back… Here, I’ll show you.” She led them to it.

Yumeno jutted her chin out towards it. “There. That thing that looks like one of the motive videos. We were worried about it, so we decided it’d be a good idea to bring everyone here.”

“Not all of us are here,” Saihara said, grimacing._ It’s so white and sterile… like a lab. It makes my head hurt..._

Momota tapped his foot. “We can check it out together if you want. It’s better if we all trust our friends with stuff like this, right?” he said pointedly.

_I can do without passive-aggression, thanks,_ Saihara thought, rather irritated. He focused instead on the console that looked like the motive videos, and found himself with an even bigger headache. _Still… why is that thing so familiar?_

His head flashed back into that blurry world again, back in front of that girl. His surroundings were watery, and the girl’s voice was still stuck in that place between “familiar” and “unknown”.

**my friend… -kun**

_Who are you? And who are you talking about? I don’t get it! _Saihara wanted to talk to her, but the words wouldn’t come out.

**something weird’s going on**

** __ ** _Yeah, no shit!_

**beat the game**

_What game?_ he wanted to ask. _This videogame console in front of us, or the killing game?_ But the words wouldn’t come out.

**It isn’t too hard. Here, I’ll show you.**

“Saihara-kun?” Kiibo looked dumbfounded. “Wait, what are you--?”

Saihara snapped back to reality, where he was holding the console in his hands, operating it subconsciously. 

“You know how it works?” Harukawa asked, surprised.

“I--” Saihara looked at his hands, then at his friends, stammering. “I don’t-- my hands moved on their own--”

“I guess… If you know how to do it, then do it,” Yumeno said.

A pop-up appeared on the console’s screen: ‘NEW QUEST: COMPLETE UNDERGROUND TUNNEL ROUTE’.

Saihara played the game, and the others leaned over his shoulder or around his arms to watch. Instinctively, he navigated the player through the building inside.

“The floor plan looks just like this academy,” Momota furrowed his brows. “‘N I feel dizzy lookin’ at it…”

“Then… was this game made as a way to mock us?” Harukawa glared. “Or is it…”

“It’s the other way around,” Saihara said, focusing on moving the character through the halls. “I’ve… done this before… somewhere...”

“It feels familiar to me too,” Yumeno said. “But… I don’t really play videogames.”

“Isn’t this the-- the same as the Death Road?” Shirogane pointed out. She frowned. “That… that shouldn’t be…”

Kiibo shrieked, tightening his fingers in a vice-like grip on Saihara’s upper arm. “There’s wall spikes, Saihara-kun-- move left, left!”

“I _know--”_ Saihara jerked the screen left. “Don’t yell in my ear, I might mess up!”

The area cleared, and a new notification appeared: ‘NEW QUEST: COMPLETE NEW 5TH FLOOR ROUTE’. The player character respawned on what looked exactly like the academy’s fifth floor.

_Then… should I direct the character to…? _

Saihara moved it to the lab above the spiral staircase. The screen dissolved, and the videogame console flashed with light. 

All six of them let out a yell as memories flooded their heads. 

The end of the world. A disease. Frantic global pandemonium, and plans by world leaders to save the human race.

Sixteen talented Japanese teenagers and a spaceship, complete with cryogenic pods-- the Gofer Project. They all woke up decades later and talked to each other, in space.

And then the memories stopped.

=

Shirogane felt rather smug.

_There you all go. Shocking, right?_

_Finally. Even though Shinguji, Ouma, and Monophanie set me back a bit… Season 53 is finally on track again._

=

Saihara paused.

“So I guess that was fake,” Harukawa sighed. “No headaches or pain or anything.”

“Same here,” Yumeno quipped. 

“My inner voice was quiet,” Kiibo touched his head. “Normally, the voice is always loud…” he trailed off._ Especially when it comes to Iruma-san and the others who died… Or about my status as a robot._

Momota coughed. “Th’ disease thing makes sense, I guess, but…”

“Y-You mean the disease that eradicated all of humanity is affecting you, Momota-kun?!” Shirogane cried out.

Momota sighed. “It’s weird… I’ve never been sick before, and I’ve never had any chronic illnesses… They wouldn’ta let me be an astronaut if they detected it otherwise, so…”

Kiibo could see Harukawa physically fighting the urge to say _‘oh, so it’s true that idiots don’t catch colds’_. He sighed, turning to Saihara, who was still holding the console. “Saihara-kun, what do you think?”

Saihara set down the console and put a pensive hand over his mouth. “I didn’t get any headaches or memories from it either,” he said first. “And even if the bit with the disease makes sense, if his medical history conflicts with it…” Saihara blinked. “There’s also the logical fallacy of humanity falling apart, yet still somehow having enough leadership left to formulate a plan and invest both time and money in sending teenagers to space-- and while I’m on that line of thought, actually--”

“Dumb it down for me, Sherlock,” Yumeno interrupted, scowling.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Saihara shortened his assessment. “There’s a bunch of stuff that doesn’t add up.”

Momota coughed again. 

“Why _Japanese_ teenagers anyway?” Saihara huffed. He crossed his arms, hand over his mouth again. “Japan is over ninety-seven percent ethnically homogenous, so there’s no biological advantage in having sixteen teenagers who are all Japanese trying to repopulate all of humanity. There’s no way for unique genes to mix or anything...” He looked up. “Kiibo-kun’s a robot, too, which doesn’t even make sense when you think about the mission being saving the human species-- and most of us are gay anyway, so what’s up with that?”

Shirogane choked. 

Yumeno blinked slowly. “Well, yeah. I’m a lesbian.”

“I’m pansexual,” Kiibo bit his lip awkwardly.

“Bi,” Momota and Harukawa said at the same time.

“See?” Saihara grit out, frustrated. “Ouma-kun definitely can’t be straight either, no way. And I know that some of our friends who died were gay too, like Kaede, or Chabashira-san, or Shinguji-kun, or Iruma-san… You’d think these world leaders would do a background check if they had the time to create some elaborate space plan!”

“But aren’t these memories strange?” Shirogane protested. “O-Or suspicious in any way? We can’t just dismiss this videogame thing!”

“From a scientific standpoint, he’s right,” Momota coughed. “There’s a lot about that whole scenario that just doesn’t work when you think about it.”

“B-But--!” Shirogane faltered.

“I think it’s fine to just ignore this, Shirogane,” Harukawa sniffed. “No need to get worried about something that obviously isn’t true.”

“Yeah…” Yumeno took out her deck of cards and began to shuffle, yawning the whole time. 

“We should just go rest for tonight, then,” Kiibo sighed. “Maybe go have dinner or something.”

“Works with me,” Yumeno shrugged. Momota already began walking out.

“Let’s go,” Saihara agreed.

=

_Back to the fucking drawing board,_ Shirogane thought, frustrated as she went down the stairs with the others.

_Why didn’t they believe it? This is my show! And this is my plot, and all of them are my characters! I have to convince them somehow…_

She locked her jaw._ My best bet… is by letting there be another villain._

_The message on the rock that Saihara and Kiibo showed us earlier… If Ouma’s really willing to take on that role, I can move on my own and make them believe that my plot <strike>lies</strike> are the truth… Vilify him <strike>no don’t</strike>, and then force the plot further once his plan comes into play..._

Shirogane smiled.

She’d find a way.

=

_Iruma’s remote works,_ Ouma thought to himself as he tested it on the one exisal left outside the hangar. _Good…_

He sneezed.

_End the game. If there are casualties, so be it. But if I can end it without any and save them…_

_...then all the better._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saihara's deductions were LITERALLY all the things i'd thought on the spot as soon as that stupid Gofer project plotline came in the actual game. The entire time I wanted to shake this detective by the shoulders and howl _why would you believe that obvious stupid lie?!?!?!?_. There were SO many plot holes with that story, it was unreal... I got pretty mad that nobody called that shit out immediately, so I decided to project my own analysis on Saihara in this fic. sdhgkadsjfkldas
> 
> Next update will probably be around this time on Thursday! I'm pretty happy and satisfied. I think I can maintain this schedule :>
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	38. 5-3. Searching;Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three of them continue their quest.
> 
> Saihara and Momota are still just as far apart as ever.
> 
> Shirogane remains in denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's also short, but it's also p important in terms of new stuff. Have fun reading!

“We still don’t have any leads,” He grit his teeth, frustrated. “At this rate, too much time will pass--”

“Nonsense,” She replied coolly. “We have all the documents right here. There has to be a clue somewhere within these files.”

He scowled. “…You’re just saying that because you know Dr. Iidabashi’s breathing down on our necks trying to find his son.”

“I’m not,” She sniffed. “I’ve met scarier people, anyhow. The professor’s just a worried father. You know mine’s the same.”

“You’re avoiding the topic,” He tsked.

“You’re giving up too fast,” She retorted.

“Guys, please stop fighting,” He begged. “We’re almost there after so much time searching-- their families can finally be at peace once we locate those kids and bring them all back!”

“Perhaps you could _help us investigate_ instead of groveling before your girlfriend and spouting your same old platitudes in front of me and my salad,” He harrumphed, getting up and taking his files and his salad with him.

She smirked behind her hand as he slammed the office door shut. “He took his files, which means he intends to continue searching. I won.”

He sighed. “You’re so petty…” 

She chuckled, setting her files down and taking the coffee mug that He graciously offered her. “He’s equally worried about them, you know. Amami-kun and Toujo-san in particular...”

“Yeah…” He sighed again. “He still pretends to be mean, but I know he cares about this whole rescue mission like the rest of us.”

“I do _not_ care!” His indignant voice was muffled by the door.

“Keep telling yourself that,” She called out.

“You can say that again when I make you best man at my wedding!” He yelled.

“Wedding, hm?” She raised a brow. “We’re a little too young for that.”

He blushed. “W-Well--” 

“When this is done and we’ve all managed to settle again,” She said quietly, a small smile on her face as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ask me for real then.”

“Mm…” his face turned even more red. “When the time comes.”

“But first comes helping those kids,” She turned around and cracked her knuckles, opening up the files again with her coffee mug now beside her. “We do three things.”

He sat down beside her, looking through the files he’d been given. “Yeah…”

“Are you going to finish the list?” She smiled faintly at him. “We search with all we’ve got.”

“We wait,” He continued, smiling. “And we--”

=

After they all left Momota’s lab, they decided to go eat dinner. 

(Everyone except Ouma, that is.)

It was a lot less lively in the cafeteria than it had been only a few weeks before, and it painfully showed. The vast room, once filled with chatter and food, now only had five people in it, holding quiet conversation. Saihara idly wondered if their numbers would only dwindle from there.

_No, _he shook the thoughts out of his head and shoveled another spoonful of rice into his mouth. _I can’t afford to think that negatively…_

“I know it’s bullshit, but theoretically, would it be possible for this place to be a spaceship?” Harukawa asked.

Momota raised a brow. “You’re not the type to usually ask that sorta thing, Harumaki.”

Harukawa glared at him, as if to say ‘just answer the question, you dolt’. Momota raised his hands as if to calm her down. “Okay, okay-- uh, well…” he grimaced. “Aside from changes in atmospheric pressure and the fact that there’d have to be a lot of advanced tech involved for a vessel like this cage to even be there…”

“They even stipulate Earth-like weather,” Yumeno said in a matter-of-fact way.

“You mean stimulate,” Shirogane corrected.

“Why aren’t you the Ultimate Grammar Policeman, huh?” Yumeno demanded with a huff, and Shirogane backed off meekly, looking a bit overwhelmed. “You know what I mean!” 

“Possibilities aside, there really isn’t any proof one way or another that we’re in space,” Saihara said quietly. As soon as he’d spoken, Momota became quiet. 

“Nyeh… How was the exisal hangar?” Yumeno changed the subject, reaching over for some sakura mochi. “I don’t care enough to actually go there, so.”

“Not a lot,” Kiibo said, refreshed at the change in topic. He gave Saihara a meaningful look. 

“Y-Yeah,” Saihara reaffirmed. _I can guess why Kiibo-kun might be lying about the press… but it feels a little unnecessary since I pretty much broke it. I want to ask, but… _

Shirogane shivered. “I don’t know… W-With a name like ‘exisal hangar’, I’d feel… k-kinda nervous about it…”

=

_So they’re lying about the press’s existence so that nobody else thinks there’s a potential murder weapon in either of the new areas,_ Shirogane thought. _How clever…_

It was _exciting. _Her two <strike>friends</strike> favorite creations, trying to beat her at her own game.

_Of course, there’s always the dark horse. _Ouma was definitely someone to keep an eye on. Later tonight, she’d check on what he was doing through the cameras.

“Thank you for the meal,” Shirogane said, getting up from her chair. She flashed the others an awkward smile. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

=

“Thanks for the food,” Momota said, and also left equally quickly.

“Ah--” Saihara reached out, but brought his hand back down. _No use, huh…_

He looked around. The only people left were Kiibo, himself, Harukawa, and Yumeno. 

_Wait a minute… _A bright idea popped into his mind at that. _Maki and Yumeno-san didn’t know a lot at that one English lesson we had a long time ago. Maybe I can…_

He nudged Kiibo. _“Why did you do a lie before?” _he whispered in English.

Kiibo blinked. “It’s _‘why did you tell a lie’_.”

Saihara wrinkled his nose. “What’s the difference?” 

“That’s just how it’s supposed to be,” Kiibo whispered back insistently. He shook his head, looking warily to make sure Harukawa and Yumeno weren’t listening before speaking up again. _“Because if nobody knows, they can’t hurt anyone.”_

It took a moment or so for the sentence to sink in. Then, Saihara nodded. It was exactly what he’d assumed Kiibo was thinking. _But… _He quietly got up, murmuring a quick thanks for the meal and taking his plate to the kitchen.

_It could also cause a misunderstanding if we aren’t careful about it._

=

Momota had showered and changed into a T-shirt and shorts. His hair still dripped a bit, falling barely to his shoulders in its natural, un-gelled form-- by now, his roots were showing, and he lamented the fact that the academy didn’t have any hair dye for him to maintain his dashing, trendy look. He let his towel sit loosely around his neck, allowing the air in the room to dry the rest of him off. He was preparing to go to bed when his doorbell rang.

_Who could it…? _His mind wandered to Harukawa and Saihara first, and he opened the door praying that it wasn’t either of them. Now that they knew about his coughing issue, they probably wouldn’t try to get him to do training, but still.

Surprisingly, it was Yumeno.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Yumeno blinked at him, expression blank. She peered around the door. “Uh, sorry… I’m looking for Momota…”

Irritation popped in his veins. “I _am_ Momota!”

Yumeno squinted, furrowing her brows. “No you aren’t. Momota has dorky hair--” she made a sweeping up motion above her head, “--and he wears a jacket with only one sleeve.”

Momota faintly touched his hair and remembered that up until now he’d always made sure nobody saw him with his hair down. “It’s not dorky,” he argued. 

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

Yumeno sighed. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Momota paused, mentally debating before deciding it’d be unmanly to let Yumeno stand outside. “Come in.”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno stood by the door even when she came in. “I’m gonna make this quick. You need to make up with Saihara.”

Momota stiffened. “What makes you say that?” he replied, somewhat irritated. 

Yumeno sighed again. “Look, it’s-- it’s not healthy for you two to be avoiding each other. I know it’s only been a day, but…” she bit her lip. “I’m worried.”

“Yeah?” Momota scoffed, furiously toweling his hair completely dry before tossing the towel back in the shower. 

“I’m serious,” Yumeno frowned, lip wobbling. “It-- It reminds me of how Tenko and I were right before she was killed.”

Momota turned to her.

“I--” Yumeno’s eyes were watery, but she didn’t make a move to wipe them. “I’m scared that something will happen to one of you. With your illness especially, and with Ouma still missing… I keep getting this bad feeling that something’s gonna go wrong.”

“Yumeno…” Momota smiled. “None of that’s gonna happen, okay? I’m--”

“If one of you dies before you apologize and make up, you _will_ regret it,” Yumeno interrupted fiercely. Her gaze softened. “You might be a hero, or a leader, or a luminary whatsit astronaut, but you’re also my _friend._ I don’t want you or Saihara to go through what I did.”

Momota was at a loss after that. “I…”

“Please,” Yumeno whispered. “Apologize to him while you still have the chance.”

And the delicacy of the moment broke. “I wasn’t wrong,” Momota said crossly, going right back to preparing to sleep. “Heroes and sidekicks should know their place, and should trust good people. If anyone’s apologizing, it’s him.”

Yumeno stared at him. Then, she sighed. “I said my piece. If you don’t listen, then it’s your problem.”

And then she left.

Momota sighed, then coughed, turning the lights off and going to bed. 

He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t just being stubborn. He spoke up and was sticking with his ideals, the way heroes and leaders should.

He wasn’t wrong…

=

“You’ve gotten stronger,” Harukawa commented. Saihara wiped the sweat off his brow, sitting in the grass and drinking from a bottle of water. After many weeks, Saihara had finally managed to do a hundred pushups without collapsing in the middle. 

“The reason I started doing this to begin with doesn’t even want to be around me anymore,” Saihara commented after catching his breath. He looked at the stars above and ignored the twisting pain in his chest. “I feel… empty.”

“...You two should make up when you can,” Harukawa said. “If this continues, it’ll be too awkward.”

“I know…”

Harukawa raised a brow. “You could apologize.”

Saihara furrowed his brows. “I’m not apologizing for doing the right thing in the long run.” He sighed. “Sorry, just-- I’m not mad at you, I--”

“I get it,” Harukawa interrupted. “I know Kaito is being stubborn. I don’t trust Ouma like you do, but voting for Ouma out of spite was a stupid move. I think you both had valid points.”

Saihara hugged his knees, making a grumbling noise of acknowledgement. 

Impulsively, Harukawa tousled his hair; she snickered when Saihara tried to swat her hand away. “At least… try to talk to him. I’ve been pushing on my end too, but… If you avoid the confrontation, there’s a chance this fight will last longer than either of you actually want it to.”

Saihara paused. “I… guess I can do that…”

“Yeah? Tomorrow, then,” Harukawa said. She sighed.

Saihara was quiet.

“...Shuichi. Are you in love with Ouma?”

Saihara jolted up, looking at Harukawa incredulously. Harukawa’s expression hadn’t changed. “Well?” she asked. 

“I…” Saihara blinked. _What is she asking all of a sudden?!_

“God…” Harukawa sighed again, flicking his forehead. “You fall in love too fast.”

Saihara let out a squawking noise. “I’m not in _love--” _

“You trust too easily then,” Harukawa rolled her eyes. “Just…” she paused, then softened. “Be _careful. _And for the record, I’m still keeping my end of the promise even though you don’t feel the same way about Kaito anymore, okay?”

“Okay…” Saihara furrowed his brows. “Why bring any of this up now?”

Harukawa blinked, then smiled. “We’re friends, aren’t we? If you feel lost, you turn to each other.”

It was comforting. An anchor to have in a time and place where everything feels like it’s moments from falling apart.

Saihara smiled back, genuinely appreciative. “Thank you, Maki.”

=

_Shut up about Iidabashi, _Kiibo thought, staring at his dorm room ceiling. 

His inner voice murmured again, unquellable.** ...trying...**

_I said, shut the hell up about Iidabashi._

The inner voice was still at it. These days, his inner voice managed to get out a few words even through all its emotional responses. **Remember… close…**

Kiibo put his pillow over his head and let out a frustrated groan. He wished robot painkillers existed, or something else that would make his head not hurt as much. _Iruma-san would’ve probably found a way to fix this by now,_ he thought. He let out a yell when his inner voice’s emotion surged at that.

**Miu… hurt…**

“Shut up,” Kiibo sighed, his head hurting and his heart beginning to hurt equally as much. “Please, shut up and let me sleep…”

=

Ouma had been writing in his dorm room the whole time, as Shirogane learned from the video feeds. Clearly planning something, but as long as it helped her, she wouldn’t interfere.

_This season is doing just fine…_

“Please, you’re still telling yourself that?” an amused voice came from behind her. The scent of mint and perfume announced the entity’s presence further, and Shirogane whirled around to face the source.

“What now?”

Monophanie stood in front of her, now looking bored. “You’re terrible, creating this whole thing just to avoid me.”

_ <strike>She’s here</strike> _

<strike> _I can’t _ </strike>

“What do you want?” Shirogane said evenly, though her heartbeat sped up.

“For you to love me like you did before,” Monophanie insisted coyly. “You even got me to change forms like this.”

_ <strike>I’m scared</strike> _

Shirogane furrowed her brows. “I don’t know who programmed your personality to change halfway through, but it wasn’t me.” 

“Cosplay-chan, you’re such a ditz,” Monophanie sighed. “The whole reason I even had to change forms was because you keep trying to run away!”

“I’m not running--”

“You’re fighting,” Monophanie whispered in her ear all of a sudden, and Shirogane jumped. Monophanie let out a strange, familiar sounding laugh, and her grin grew wider. “Fighting the obvious: that nobody can win. That everyone should die. That there’s no point.” Monophanie got off, walking back to where she was standing before.

Shirogane took in a breath, refusing to look her in the eye. “I’m doing this because I want to. I love Danganronpa.”

_ <strike>No, I don’t--!</strike> _

<strike> _I don’t want my friends to die!_ </strike>

“You’re running away,” Monophanie corrected from a distance. “But because you have nowhere else to go, you’re stranded.” 

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Shirogane furrowed her brows. 

(But deep down inside, there was a distinct feeling blooming within her that told her she didn’t.)

Monophanie’s voice was light and airy. “Embrace me instead, Shirogane Tsumugi.”

Shirogane stood up and turned around, retort on her lips--

\--but by then, Monophanie was gone.

=

Ouma looked at his journals before finally putting them away, satisfied. 

This plan would have to work. There were numerous backup routes in case Momota was being particularly stubborn, but in the end, the main plan was what Ouma wanted to focus on. He checked on the electrohammers. They were fully charged.

_This is it. _Ouma turned off his lights and went to bed, pulling the covers over himself._ Tomorrow, I’ll do it._

_I’ll end this game once and for all._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty excited, aren't you? :p
> 
> Next chapter will be a **special update** either on **Friday or sometime this weekend.** Look forward to it!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	39. 5-4. Return to the Death Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harukawa and Yumeno have some girl talk.
> 
> Saihara and Momota dance around each other.
> 
> Ouma orchestrates everyone's return to the Death Road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is a special Friday update!** If you haven't read the previous one (or two) chapters from this week, please read them first. 
> 
> We're sooooo close, I'm excited. This chapter (and the previous one or two;;;) are shorter, but I hope you guys enjoy them nonetheless!

The next morning, Momota woke up and proceeded to cough his guts out.

It was like a workout! Nothing bad. He’d just have to splash cold water on his face and sleep it off some other time. He brushed his teeth and washed off the bloodstains from his toothbrush, then changed his clothes, then gelled up his hair all fashionable with the sparse amounts of hair gel he had left in the one tube he’d been given.

_Sucks that I don’t have access to hair dye._ Momota clicked his tongue, lamenting the slow regrowth of his natural brown. _It doesn’t look as heroic or cool without it… and I’m running out of gel too, which is even worse…_

He smiled at his reflection. Heroic. Leader-like. A passionate person who fights for their ideals.

_‘You need to make up with Saihara.’_

He frowned, then left his bathroom. It was all a matter of his ideals. Momota wouldn’t apologize for that. 

_I’ll trust my friends and sidekicks as their leader. As the hero, I’ll make sure that all the good people here escape eventually…_

=

Harukawa didn’t usually hang out with Kiibo and Shirogane-- at least, not of her own choice. So when she found herself eating breakfast with them, she wasn’t prepared for just how weird they were.

“Y-You seem, um… y-you seem upset, Kiibo-kun,” Shirogane said meekly.

“I’m doing just fine, Shirogane-san,” Kiibo replied merrily, stabbing his pancakes as if he had a personal vendetta against them. “I had a wonderful night’s sleep and even dreamed of electric sheep.”

“So Ultimate robots _do_ dream of clockwork!” Shirogane replied, overjoyed.

“That’s robophobic,” Kiibo sighed, even though he was the one who even brought up electric sheep in the first place.

“O-Oh,” Shirogane blinked. 

In short, Harukawa wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

She wasn’t much of an emotional person-- her style of assassination involved more direct killing than emotional manipulation. Snipe them, stab them, shoot them. Don’t seduce them or even let them see you. The usual. But only an idiot wouldn’t be able to tell that Kiibo was a lot grumpier as of late, and that Shirogane was about as nerdy and ridiculous as always.

“Thanks for the food,” Harukawa said quietly. She washed her plate and went back to her room, deciding to pass the time with a workout.

_Hello, Punching Bag-san,_ her brain supplied. Haukawa had gotten a new one from the warehouse after breaking the old one, and even though she’d wanted to forget the embarrassing line, her brain found it cheerfully convenient to remind her of it at every waking second.

She got out her MMA gear and began punching. _Kaito and Shuichi need to talk it out. _

She dodged, then swerved to the side and kicked._ But it’s not my job to force them to communicate… _

More punches. _If they’re being immature about it, there’s not a lot I can do. But they’re my best friends, so I want to help…_

Suddenly, Harukawa’s doorbell rang. She held the sandbag steady and called out: “Who’s there?”

“It’s Yumeno,” Yumeno’s voice replied. “Can I hang out in your room, Harukawa?”

Harukawa walked over and let the girl in. “What did you want to do?”

Yumeno plopped on Harukawa’s bed, kicking her feet. “Talk about dumbass boys.”

_Girl talk? _Harukawa blanched. _Even with Hana, I never really…_ “Uh…”

“Namely, your two idiots,” Yumeno frowned, pointing at Harukawa. “Momota and Saihara. They’re being stupid.”

Harukawa sighed, relieved in more ways than one. _Right, she was a lesbian to begin with._ “I talked to Shuichi last night, and he said he’d try to talk to Kaito. He isn’t as hesitant as he used to be, so maybe it’ll work…”

“Even Shirogane’s opened up more,” Yumeno mused. She shook her head. “But that aside, I tried talking to Momota last night too,” she admitted. “But he was a moron about it, so I left.”

That definitely piqued Harukawa’s curiosity. “What did you tell him?”

Yumeno shifted. “The way those two argued and are acting now… really reminds me of myself and Tenko. I told Momota that, and that they should make up, but he was still stubborn.”

Harukawa sighed. _Yeah, that sounds like him…_

Yumeno shifted more, a worried expression crossing her face. “I… I really have a bad feeling. If they let their fight continue, then something bad could happen to one of them… just like what happened to _her.” _Yumeno sighed, then pulled out her bunny from her hat again, holding it up in her arms. “You’d never be stupid like that, would you, Usa-chan?”

The bunny fidgeted its whiskers, squirming.

Harukawa paused. “I think we should trust them. They should be able to work it out somehow.”

Yumeno cuddled Usa-chan. “Mm… It’d be good if they did make up.”

“Was that it?” Harukawa asked, putting away her MMA gear. “Or did you want to do anything else?”

“Nyeh… I kinda wanted to talk more,” Yumeno said. “I dunno about what, though. I was just bored and tired…”

Harukawa raised a brow, then smiled, clambering onto her bed and sitting cross-legged beside Yumeno. 

“We can do that.”

=

_I will talk to Kaito I will talk to Kaito I will talk to Kaito I will Kaito to talk-- wait, I mixed that up--_

Needless to say, Saihara was a bit of a mess.

Ouma was still nowhere to be found; Kiibo was in a rather bad mood and sheepishly asked for time to himself; Harukawa and Yumeno were chitchatting in Harukawa’s room; and Shirogane was off doing whatever it was she did during the day. 

Despite knowing all of these things, Saihara hadn’t realized that it’d leave him alone with Momota in the cafeteria. 

_His roots are showing, _Saihara noted. Momota looked at him; Saihara immediately pretended to be interested in his Chinese-style stirfry.

_You’re being evasive and cowardly, _he thought to himself. _Just talk to him!_

But at the same time, an uneasy, scared feeling pooled in Saihara’s gut. _It’s so awkward… he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I know neither of us are gonna want to apologize, so..._

Momota ate his lunch in complete silence, then said a quiet thanks before getting up and leaving.

_Ah… he left. _Saihara’s mouth opened, then closed.

He let his head slump forward and bang against the table. _Goddammit._

=

_I spent all night watching the feeds, so I’ll take a nap._ Shirogane yawned, stretching her arms. _It’ll be okay.._

“That’s right, sleep,” <strike>her</strike> Monophanie’s voice distantly called as she closed her eyes. “All of you should sleep and dream of me…”

=

Ouma climbed against the wall of the exisal hangar and slipped the Bugvac through the small window that connected to its bathroom. All the nano-whatever bots around the exisal hangar complex were deactivated as they’d been sucked in. The area was completely unsurvey-able.

_And with that, _he thought, closing the window and jumping back down, _I’m done setting up. _

_I’ll grab the bombs and hammers and call everyone to the gym._

=

It’d been days since Saihara last saw Ouma. 

The other boy looked like he’d lost quite a bit of sleep, but the way he grinned without a care, called them all to the gym like he hadn’t just _locked himself away_ from all the others, sent Saihara’s heart lurching. 

“What the hell do you want,” Momota narrowed his eyes, coughing a bit.

“Did you run out of hair dye, Momota-chan?” Ouma asked inquisitively. He tsked. “A shame. I’d offer you some if I had any.”

“Quit your clown act,” Momota growled. “Whaddaya want?

Harukawa clenched her fist. “Why did you call us here?”

Ouma slid forward a box towards them. 

“What’s this?” Saihara asked, furrowing his brows. Yumeno bent down and peered inside.

“Electrohammers and Electrobombs,” Ouma said casually. “Useful things, those.”

“What…” Kiibo treaded cautiously with his words. “What do they do?”

Ouma ignored him. “If you guys wanna see so badly what Gonta and I saw in the virtual world, you’ll have to go to the Death Road and reach the end. These things will disable all the traps and stuff there.” 

“Wh-- how would it do that?” Shirogane asked shakily, looking considerably sweaty all of a sudden.

Ouma laughed. “They’re all electronic. These bad boys disable them.”

“I don’t trust that,” Kiibo shook his head, taking a wary step backwards. It took Saihara a moment to remember why, and when he realized, he mentally slapped himself.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara began at last, “why are you showing this all to us now?”

“Nyeh… No offense, but you’re really suspicious,” Yumeno furrowed her brows.

“I don’t fuckin’ trust you,” Momota coughed again. “These are prolly killing devices or some shit. Ignore him.”

“Oh…?” Ouma’s gaze darkened. He pulled out an Electrobomb from his pocket and yanked out the safety pin with an easygoing smile. “Doubting people who just wanna have fun is rude, Momota-chan.”

And then he threw it at the ceiling.

The lights sparked, and then the gym was completely blacked out. Everyone, Saihara included, yelped and shrieked, fumbling in the darkness. 

_Ouma-kun-- is he just trying to prove that they work, or is he trying to be confusing?!_

“How can he do this?!” Shirogane’s voice came out, aghast and confused.

“Ow, Shirogane-san--”

“Usa-chan, no! Come back to my hat!”

“Where’s the light switch?” Harukawa yelled.

At last, the backup power turned on. Ouma stood exactly where he’d been the whole time, tapping a foot on the gym floor. “Well?”

“The fuck was that for?” Momota coughed again.

“They work, so you should use them,” Ouma explained. “You do want to see the truth that Gonta died for, right?”

_It’s weird, _Saihara realized. _With how malicious and crazy he was acting before, I expected him to put on more of a show with all those faces and unsolvable lies…_

_...but he seems so much more calm now. Like he’s trying to get something specific to happen._

Momota begrudgingly seemed to acquiesce. “...For Gonta’s sake. In memory of one of our fallen friends, we’ll go.” He yanked an electrohammer.

“I’ll be going then,” Ouma chirped, walking out. “I have no desire to see that again.” 

Saihara’s eyes trailed him the entire time. 

“Let’s grab these weapons and go,” Harukawa rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why he’s suddenly giving us this offer, but if we’re gonna learn something, we might as well take the chance.”

Momota beamed a smile at her. “‘Atta sidekick.”

There were three electrohammers and two electrobombs. Momota, Harukawa, and Shirogane lifted the hammers. Kiibo and Yumeno took the remaining two bombs; Saihara realized too late he was empty-handed. “Ah…”

“Take it, Saihara-kun,” Kiibo offered his. “After all, it could backfire on me…”

Saihara accepted it, feeling its weight in his palm. “Thank you, Kiibo-kun.”

“Are we ready?” Momota asked; everyone nodded. “Then let’s go. Back to the manhole cover. Back to where we started.”

=

_It’s just like the videogame, _Saihara thought as Harukawa bashed yet another trap back into the walls. _And yet, there’s something else nagging at the back of my mind… A hallway like this… Where have I…_

(The memory of blood and its stale, metallic scent wouldn’t leave his thoughts.)

He and Yumeno had thrown their bombs; Momota and Harukawa had used the hammers and depleted their energy. Shirogane’s hammer was nearly out of energy, too.

“Are we gonna have enough power to reach the end?!” Kiibo asked, worried.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Ouma was just stringing us along,” Momota grit his teeth.

Shirogane heaved the hammer with as much might as she could muster and smashed the last trap, deactivating it. Just as her hammer had drained all its power, they reached the end of the tunnel. 

“We made it,” she breathed.

“Congratulations,” Monophanie stood before them with a smile, a huge vault behind her. “You finally get to see the remains of human society.”

Everyone faltered. “Huh?” Saihara said.

Monophanie stepped aside, disappearing, allowing the vault swung open.

The headaches were excruciating; everyone let out a noise of pain and clutched their heads as memories came to them from the flash of light as the door opened-- strange meteors, news reports, a disease, funerals, the Ultimate Hunt, the world ending--

“AHAHAHAHA! YOU SEE? _YOU SEE IT NOW?!_ THE THING THAT DROVE GONTA TO MURDER? THAT’S WHAT YOU ALL GET FOR BEING CURIOUS!” Ouma’s furious, gleeful voice came from behind them.

But none of them even turned around to acknowledge him. Once they remembered, and once the dramatic light dimmed down, they finally saw what was behind that door.

(Saihara felt sick.)

“Behold,” Ouma announced. “An apocalyptic wasteland. The remains of planet Earth.”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Tuesday! It's one of my favorite chapters and is REALLY important, so don't miss it!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	40. 5-5. Game Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five freeze up.
> 
> One freaks out.
> 
> And the last one remaining--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **There was a special update on Friday! If you haven't read that chapter, _please_ go back and read it before this one!** and yes, this chapter was meant for Tuesday, but I finished it now (like 1 am-ish Monday) and really just couldn't wait ;;; I hope you guys don't mind it being early (?) lmao
> 
> Here we are, one of my favorite chapters! Technically, everything from here on out is gonna be "one of my favorite chapters", but oh well :p
> 
> Trigger warning for graphic asphyxiation. It's... pretty much unavoidable, I'm sorry about that.
> 
> Let's go.

The outside world was in ruins.

“What is this,” Kiibo asked numbly. He turned around. “Ouma-kun--”

“Earth is gone, Kiiboy,” Ouma smiled. “Destroyed.” _And so should all of your desires to continue this game, now that you know._

Shirogane trembled, eyes leaking with shaky tears. “S-So it was right all along! The fact that, that-- w-we really are the-- the, the-- you know, the last sixteen people of the human race!” 

_Huh…?_ Ouma blinked, then narrowed his eyes, keeping up the same smile he had before. “Wrong, Shirogane-chan. There’s only _seven_ of us left now.”

“Why would you show us this?” Saihara asked hollowly. And yet… his eyes shone. “Why…?”

His spirit hadn’t been broken yet. It was amazing, incredible. A potential mastermind naturally wouldn’t get deterred by something like that, but...

_I want to wring that curiosity out of him… before it puts my plans into disarray..._

Momota trembled as well, but unlike Shirogane, his trembling was that of absolute rage. “Fuck you,” he spat. “Fucking--”

“Easy there, Momota-chan,” Ouma sighed nonchalantly. “You don’t wanna attack me.” He pulled out the remote.

_You’re gonna work together with me, after all. _

=

The last thing any of them expected to see was a goddamn _exisal._

The mechanical goliath clanked slowly, taking giant thudding steps towards Ouma, and stopped right behind him. Proudly, Ouma held up the remote in his hand and jeered. “Behold.”

“You can control the exisals?!” Shirogane shrieked, eyes bulging wide. 

“Wha--” Yumeno’s mouth was agape.

“H-How?!” Saihara stammered, brows furrowed._ No way. He never showed any signs of having this kind of control before--!_

“I’m the mastermind,” Ouma said simply. He cackled, pressing the remote’s button, and the exisal lowered, allowing him to climb inside and control it from there. “See?” his voice came from inside, mechanized. The exisal stood back up to its full height.

“Bitch,” Harukawa swore, gaze deadly, mouth twisted in a snarl. “I knew it. I fucking _knew _it had to be you--!”

“Aww, Harumaki-chan,” Ouma giggled from within the exisal. “You really hate people like me just having fun, don’t you?”

“Fun?!” Harukawa darkened, dropping the Electrohammer and creating a claw with her hand. “Killing games like these aren’t _fun.”_

“They are, though!” Ouma insisted, laughing maniacally. “They’re my favorite thing. I told you, didn’t I?! I love inflicting pain on other people!”

_Do you?_

_Do you really, Ouma-kun?_

Ouma truly did appear to be a grandiose supreme leader, holding life and death over everyone’s heads from his place in the exisal. But all Saihara could see in front of him was the boy he’d known from the beginning. 

_‘Ultimate Supreme leader,’_ Ouma’s lip had curled up cruelly, _‘Ouma Kokichi.’_

A fake smile._ ‘Aww, Saihara-chan, do you remember me?’_

Anger. _‘Are you blind? Can’t you see how exhausted everyone is?’_

Cartoonish fear. _‘H-Hold on, guys? My fellow friends whom I love dearly? Pals? Buddies? Precious teammates? Everyone?’_

Childish laughter. _‘YOUR MOM!’_

Righteousness. _‘Hoshi wanted to live.’_

Mysteriousness._ ‘Figure it out yourself, my beloved Saihara-chan.’_

Fun-loving, yet indecipherable. _‘I hate lies and jokes.’_

Prepared. _‘What? Obviously someone who carries lockpicks is also gonna carry matches.’_

Images of all of Ouma’s expressions, every single one that Saihara had ever seen, flooded his mind. The image of him nearly collapsing from a concussion. Slurred, half-dizzy words in his ear, echoes of a family left behind. The reaction to the scent of antiseptic in the infirmary. His coy voice, asking to team up after the fourth investigation. The panicked, expressionless guilt in the trial. The tears, the yelling, the screaming, the fear from execution, and the emptiness after, abandoning everything to be alone--

_‘You have no idea how happy that made me.’_

\--and now, this.

_I refuse to believe it, _Saihara’s mind raced, heart clenching as he looked up at the exisal above him._ I don’t believe that someone as kind as you can be the mastermind, even after you’ve shown us a universe as sad as this one!_

_You have to have something planned, Ouma-kun. The only reason you’d be doing something so irrational and cruel is because you’re trying to put on an act!_

_=_

Saihara looked desperate. Kiibo, Yumeno, and Shirogane looked shocked and depressed.

Only Harukawa looked as angry as Momota felt.

Of course Ouma was the sort of bad guy Momota would hate. The kind of bad guy who trashed others’ ideals and tore down others’ efforts, both patronizing them and making everything harder for no real reason other than they were bad and not worth trusting. 

(It was weird, how Ouma had escalated from pickpocketing Momota’s wallet to evil like this. How deep down, Momota felt like something was off, but he pushed it away because there was no time to think about deep moral grays when something so _obvious_ was right in front of him.)

“I’ll stop you--!” Momota dropped his own Electrohammer and took a step forward, only to stop when the exisal creaked forward.

“You have to wait your turn when you play games like these,” Ouma snickered. “No sweat, Momota-chan. Rest easy, alright? I’m making my move, and you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

The exisal bent down, mechanical arm reaching for Momota, looming closer and closer and about to grab him, and then--

Something slammed into him, full force, pushing him to the side.

Momota rolled over, barely managing to get back on his knees; his heart leapt to his throat at what he saw. _Shuichi--!_

Saihara had jumped in at the last second and pushed Momota out of harm’s way, only to be the one grabbed by the exisal.

The others were shocked, frozen in that instant; immediately the silence was replaced with yelling. Saihara’s voice was strangled and his eyes were watering as the exisal’s arm brought him higher, higher, higher above ground.

_I’ve been avoiding him all this time and here he is, being a hero and saving me without a second thought._

_Would I have done the same?_

_Why did he do something like that after everything that happened between us?_

“SHUICHI!” Momota yelled, anguished.

“Kai...to...” His legs swung weakly, dangling from the exisal’s hold; he clawed at the metal around his neck to no avail. “Every… one… hng… run… I’ll… _nnghH!”_

_‘It hurts more when it comes from a friend.’_

“SHUICHI!” Momota yelled again._ No, no, no--! _“SHUICHI--”

“I--” Saihara choked, straining around the exisal’s grip. “can’t-- breathe--!”

“Wait, why’s--?! _Shit--!”_ Ouma sounded genuinely frazzled for a moment, and Momota could make out the noise of frantic button-pushing before the noise in the exisal turned silent. 

“The exisal’s malfunctioning!” Shirogane exclaimed. “It’s--”

Saihara’s voice became thinner and thinner, raspier, chokier, until all that was left was his mouth inaudibly moving, soundlessly and desperately gulping for air, and his eyes slipping closed.

_‘If one of you dies before you apologize and make up, you _will_ regret it.’_

Regret. Regret regret regret regret regret regret regret regret regret regret regret regret regret--

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” Ouma’s mechanical, mocking voice suddenly cooed once again from the exisal. “Momota-chan, look at that! Your precious little sidekick took the fall for you!”

Momota clenched his fist, eyes wide in dread. “Shuichi,” he gasped. “SHUICHI--”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Harukawa yelled, distraught. “LET GO OF HIM!” Yumeno and Shirogane clamored with her. Kiibo in particular held up his right arm, aiming it at the exisal and biting his lip as if he was having a frantic mental debate about something or other.

“Nishishi…” Ouma snickered. “This’ll be fun. Don’t worry, everyone! I’ll take reeeeal good care of him.”

“Let go of him!” Shirogane shrieked, horrified. _“Don’t hurt Saihara-kun!”_

Kiibo grit his teeth, eyes glowing turquoise as he steadied his arm. “Ouma-kun, please don’t make me--!”

Momota saw red. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD, GIVE HIM BACK--” he collapsed to his knees, hacking and coughing blood. The world around him trembled and turned hazy.

(Yet even with blurry vision, the sight of Saihara Shuichi going limp in the exisal’s metal arms was terribly, hauntingly clear.)

Saihara’s hands fell from his neck like a ragdoll, head hanging down and arms swaying by his sides like a ghost damned in hell. Momota’s vision flickered, and for the slightest moment, he could’ve sworn he was back in the very first trial, looking at Akamatsu Kaede’s swinging corpse all over again.

_The real leader here... the real hero who saves everyone... Akamatsu’s real successor was always meant to be--_

“SHUICHI!” Harukawa screamed. Yumeno fainted; Shirogane immediately dropped to her side, frantically looking back and forth from Yumeno to Ouma as she tried to bring the former back to wakefulness.

_“‘Give him back’?” _Ouma tsked. “You’re such an egoist, Momota-chan. You don’t own rights over Saihara-chan! Besides, you were the one who started an argument with him and then gave him the silent treatment!” 

“Shut-- up--” Momota rasped.

“Relax,_ idiot._ I’m not stupid enough that I’d kill him right here,” Ouma chided. He grinned (or rather, Momota assumed he was grinning-- there was no way the bastard wasn’t enjoying this.). “I have to have some fun with him first.”

Momota grit his teeth. Everything was swirling all at once. His thoughts, the things around him, everyone’s voices…

“Now you all know,” Ouma finally said, “that there is no use trying to defy me, the mastermind. Okay? I’m taking him as a little insurance, but rest assured…”

“No…” Shirogane’s eyes were wide, her face expressionless.

“Rest assured of the absolute truth,” Ouma spoke again, firm and villainous. _“This game... is over.”_

Momota collapsed to the ground.

Saihara’s body was gently lowered into the exisal’s other hand; his head lolled as the exisal moved out of the room and back into the tunnel, the echoes of its footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

“Kaito!” Harukawa shrieked, running towards him. She skidded to a stop, whirling over to look at the exiting exisal, crazed. “Shuichi--” Harukawa looked back and forth between the two of them, hands frustratedly tangling in her hair as she let out a panicked sob. “Kaito, Shuichi, where do I-- fuck--!_ Where do I go?!”_

Momota cursed himself, cursed his weakness and his illness and everything in between. He opened his mouth, tried to tell Harukawa to _go, go run after Shuichi and that bastard Ouma,_ but his voice wouldn’t come out.

The last thing he saw before everything turned black was Harukawa’s concerned face, kneeling by his side.

=

“We have to go after him,” Yumeno breathed, conscious again. “O-Ouma, he--”

“The exisals are too dangerous,” Shirogane said, steadying the other girl. “And so--” she bit her tongue. “S-So is Ouma-kun.”

“I don’t have any GPS signals placed on him or the exisal either,” Kiibo beeped in distress. He ruffled his metallic hair, aggravated. “Argh, I should’ve--”

_I should’ve used my turbo cannon. Left a blast, even if it was purposely directed at the wall nearby, just to scare him enough--_

_But it could’ve hurt Saihara-kun, so I made the right decision not to,_ Kiibo reasoned, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. _And Ouma-kun, technically. As much as I dislike him, I don’t want either of them getting hurt--!_

“Even if I had my weapons, I have no way of knowing if it’ll actually damage the exisals,” Harukawa said dully, sliding one of Momota’s arms around her shoulder and hoisting him up. “They’re too powerful.”

His inner voice was killing him, but Kiibo was by now used to its pain. Now, a different pain stirred within his heart.

(Heart? No, all he had was circuitry and wires… silly him.)

“Harukawa-san,” Kiibo spoke. Harukawa looked at him, then looked at Momota, slumped over her and sweating profusely.

“I-Is he--” Yumeno gulped.

“He’s already sick,” Shirogane whispered, trembling. “We-- We all need to make sure he doesn’t die from-- from the stress of what--” she gulped, voice shaking terribly. “What we all just saw. B-Both the outside world, and...”

She left it unsaid.

Kiibo furrowed his brows, apprehensive. “But-- But Saihara-kun--”

_“There’s nothing we can do now!”_ Harukawa snapped at him, tears leaking from her eyes. She grit her teeth, turning her cheek the other way. “With everything Ouma did, there’s nothing…”

Shirogane and Yumeno grimly took places on either side of Harukawa, helping her lift Momota up. “Let’s go, Kiibo-kun,” Shirogane said quietly, her glasses gleaming, and Kiibo’s inner voice suddenly grew louder with emotion. “We need to take Momota-kun back to the dorms.”

=

_Ouma’s plan failed, and he looks like a villain now in everyone else’s eyes, but at what cost?_

_Ouma can’t hurt my <strike>friend</strike> detective. Saihara can’t experience any physical pain or trauma like that!_

_He can’t die. He can’t be hurt._

_Make it so that he isn’t…!_

_=_

The exisal had malfunctioned. No, scratch that-- the _remote_ Iruma made for him had malfunctioned.

_My goal was to kidnap Momota, not choke Saihara to unconsciousness! What the fuck-- _Ouma took in a deep breath and continued guiding the exisal back to the hangar, making sure that Saihara was secure. _How did that manage to happen?_

The arm had grabbed Saihara, but instead of gently holding him, the arm had seized, tightening its grip until Saihara had gone unconscious with no way to stop it even via the remote.

Of _course_ it’d all gone wrong at the worst possible moment. Ouma swore under his breath. Maybe this was karmic retribution that Ouma was due, all courtesy of Iruma and Gonta themselves. If Ouma had done anything else other than just letting the machine choke the person he loved, then the mastermind would’ve won, and his plan to end the game by playing the role of the villain would’ve been torn to shreds. If jeering and sneering at the others like this was exactly according to plan is what he had to do, then he’d do it.

Ouma flipped through his journal, tangling his hand in his hair frustratedly. Pages upon pages of plans, all now irrelevant. 

Had it been Shirogane, Yumeno, or Kiibo, he would’ve been fine. They were all physically and mentally weaker; though Kiibo was clearly involved with the recording and broadcasting aspect of the game, he wasn’t much of a threat otherwise. Had it been Momota, it would’ve been great. His illness would’ve been great leverage against the others; Ouma’s plan could’ve gone on perfectly. Harukawa… would never have agreed to it, unless the circumstances were really that dire. Had it been her, she would’ve just killed him and gone back to the others-- unless she was smart enough to realize that would get her executed, but either way, he was dead if he’d caught her.

But Saihara… Saihara could_ figure him out._

Saihara, the potential mastermind who cared, who told him he didn’t have to be alone-- perhaps the end of the game did lie with him, but for now, he was the last person Ouma wanted to be stuck riding out the rest of his plan with.

_Oh well,_ Ouma thought, getting ready to throw an electrobomb at the hangar’s security. _At least the hydraulic press should still be there to use._

=

Harukawa and the others piled around in Momota’s room, bustling from there to the infirmary and back with medicines and other supplies.

Shirogane put a damp cloth over Momota’s forehead and took his temperature; Yumeno measured out medicine and tilted it into Momota’s mouth; Kiibo got water and food from the kitchen and began asking after everyone else.

It was futile, Harukawa thought, for Kiibo to do that. They all looked and probably were dead inside, and no amount of bottled water or granola bars would save them.

Saihara was _gone._ Taken. Their light, who always led them through trials and managed to help them live to see another day, kidnapped just like that. Strangling, telling them to go--

Harukawa could only think of Saihara’s anguished words in the fourth trial, an ironic knife twisting in her heart in hindsight. 

_‘YOU _ALWAYS_ TAKE KAITO’S SIDE!’_

The pain exploded in her chest, a zig-zagging bullet tearing her apart from the inside out, set off by the realization that Saihara had been_ right._

_I do always stay by Kaito’s side, don’t I._

Harukawa tried and failed to breathe as memories assaulted her vision.

Elbowing him in the side for calling her a tsundere. Twisting his arm when they both agreed not to confess to Momota. Laughing over stupid things, doing pushups and shittalking Momota for always ditching, making fun of his scrawny arms, taking in the way Saihara smiled when she tried and actually managed to say something friendly and encouraging for once--

“Harukawa,” Yumeno said clearly, unsmiling, leaning up on her tiptoes to wipe away Harukawa’s tears with her thumbs. “Focus.”

Harukawa’s face bunched up. “He--”

“If Ouma really wasn’t lying when he said the game was over,” Yumeno said hollowly, “then he won’t kill Saihara. ‘Cuz then there’d be a trial, right? Which means the game would continue.”

It was a comforting thought, despite how vile it made Harukawa feel to think about.

“He’s a liar,” Harukawa shook her head, refusing to give herself the benefit of believing that Ouma would be so pleasant as to make good on a promise. “As nice as it’d be to trust him… I can’t. Not after that.”

Yumeno only sighed, tilting another medicine between Momota’s lips and gently lifting his chin so that it went down his throat. “That’s alright,” she replied, shuffling away. “I wouldn’t believe him either.”

“Neither would I,” Shirogane murmured. Momota stirred, coughing lightly into the air.

(In the corner of the room, Kiibo’s eye twitched.)

=

The exisal, now powered down, rested inside the hangar with all the others. 

Ouma first set up the electric security system again, to make sure nobody would get in. Then, he dragged Saihara out of the exisal’s hands and propped him up against a wall. His head hung low, like a weight dropping.

_Hm… bad for his neck._

Ouma set Saihara down again, making him lie on the floor. He observed the other boy, tapping a finger on his chin curiously.

_A flat floor’s probably uncomfortable for his head… If there was something that could work as a pillow, then maybe…_

Ouma’s gaze flitted down from Saihara’s peaceful face to his gakuran-- clearly a removable layer-- and instantly, his ears turned pink._ No!_ He took off his neck scarf instead, ignoring the antiseptic smell that came with the action, and folded it, tucking it under Saihara’s head. _There… that should probably work for now. _

As he tilted Saihara’s head, he noticed the other boy’s neck. _That’s weird… even though the exisal was squeezing him so tightly, there aren’t any marks at all._

_Almost as if it had never happened. As if it were painless, allowing him to not be hurt…_

Ouma let out a soft scoff. Even Harukawa’s grip was stronger than that. He’d had marks around his own neck for at least a week or so after the second trial, when she’d choked him in front of everyone else. 

He got up, deciding that a scarf-pillow was better than nothing, and left the other boy to be unconscious while he explored the hangar again. Now was the time for Ouma to make sure that everything was available and ready to work as his plan had necessitated. 

The hydraulic press came first. Ouma stood in front of it.

Then he noticed the frayed wire lying next to it.

_It’s broken. _

_...The press is broken?!_

That was it! Iruma and Gonta were officially trolling Ouma from heaven. Either that, or they’d somehow gotten a bargain deal with some religious entity to discreetly deposit him in a nearly identical alternate universe where everything conspired against him and stood solely for the sake of making him scream and cry and hit things and wail for a time when all he had to worry about was protecting his siblings from his mother’s paranoia or stealing enough stuff to get by for the day.

Ouma bit his thumbnail, thoughts racing. _Who broke it?! Does it even matter? How am I supposed to do any of this invalid trial stuff now that--_

He sank to the floor, utterly overwhelmed.

_These are reasonable grounds for having a mental breakdown, _Ouma rationalized._ As long as I finish before Saihara wakes up, it’ll be alright… _

_...and then I can think of another way to make sure he goes along with my plan._

=

“T-Th-There’s no p-point in-- in trying to, to rescue Saihara-kun right now, wherever he is,” Shirogane’s lip wobbled, shaky crocodile tears leaking from her eyes. “B-Because we’re all the last six-sixteen--” she sobbed.

It had been several hours. Momota was still unconscious. Harukawa had taken a shower and gone to sleep on one of the chairs in Momota’s room; Yumeno was flipping coins over her knuckles to pass the time.

Kiibo wanted to sleep, but his inner voice was so _loud._

“The last seven,” he corrected her quietly. Everything had happened too fast for him to recall the exact details of what had transpired, but one thing was for sure: the memories they received from the console, contrary to their belief, had to be real.

From what they all saw at the end of the Death Road, the outside world-- Earth-- was destroyed. This vessel was a spaceship intended for--

**stupid… idiot…**

_Who are you calling--?! _Kiibo clenched his teeth and held his head, trying his best not to let out any noise.

“Kiibo-kun?” Shirogane called out softly.

Kiibo’s inner voice pierced him; he winced, then smiled. “Y-Yes, Shirogane-san?”

“Do you really think it’s true?” she asked him. “That the game is over now?”

“No,” Kiibo replied almost instantly. He sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. “No. The way I see it… it’s only over if we manage to oust the mastermind properly and get out of here.”

Shirogane pursed her lips. “I think the same.”

=

_It isn’t over just yet, Ouma Kokichi. You may have my detective, but I have the upper hand on plenty of other things. Prepare yourself, Ultimate Supreme Leader. _

Shirogane buried her head in her knees and forced a grin.

_This game’s just begun._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You know me so well, my beloved! You’re right, I was lying! I won’t kill Momota-chan, I’m gonna kill _you_ instead!” --Ouma, chapter 18
> 
> Shoutout to Zee for correctly predicting both that Saihara would be kidnapped instead of Momota + that this fic was planned to be 53 chapters :p You give me a heart attack every time you get something right before I even begin to foreshadow it, I hope you know. 
> 
> In other news, I'm honestly not sure if I'll be able to get the next chapter out by Thursday-- if not, I'll edit here/make an announcement on the discord server.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	41. 5-6. Hangars and Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two different team-ups.
> 
> Two similar breakdowns.
> 
> And an infinite number of headaches...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait for this chapter. I don't think I've ever taken this long to finish before, and I sincerely apologize that it _has_ taken this long.
> 
> Unfortunately, I doubt that I'll be able to continue with 2x/week updates because of school and other irl issues, so **I've changed the update schedule to be _only_ on Tuesdays.** I was hoping to finish this fic by the end of February, but it looks like it'll be ongoing for a month or so longer than that. Maybe that's a good thing? lol...
> 
> On top of that, these remaining 10+ chapters are **crucial** to the story and the characters' development, so I wanted to handle its writing more delicately than I have been thus far. Ultimately, that means taking longer to write and edit the chapters. Thank you all for your understanding and patience.
> 
> General TWs for this chapter include emotional manipulation, blood, and canon-typical graphic violence, all towards the end of the chapter.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for!

“Rock, paper, scissors--”

“How did we all tie _again?”_ Shirogane’s lip twitched, her facade fading a bit as her irritation leaked through.

“Maybe we’re all just dumb as rocks,” Yumeno frowned, holding up her fist in the air to inspect it.

“It’s a coincidence,” Harukawa scowled, cheeks reddening. “Just shut up and let’s go again.”

“One of you two needs to decide who’s gonna do it, because I’m not!” Shirogane protested, removing her hand from the circle. She looked at Momota, still bedridden and asleep after nearly a full day, and flushed as she whispered: “I’m not gonna bathe a boy! It’s too indecent!”

“When did you become Little Miss Morals, huh?” Yumeno put her hands on her hips. “Last time, you were talking all about how he’s_ sooo_ smart and _sooo_ cool and handsome or whatever--”

“You _what,”_ Harukawa whirled her head to Shirogane and narrowed her eyes, as if trying to telepathically suss out her new love rival.

Shirogane’s hands waved about, windmill-like, as she stammered. “I-It’s not what you think! I never said ‘cool’ or ‘handsome’ either--” she threw a withering glare at Yumeno for good measure, “--I just said he was smart! A-And acknowledging that doesn’t--_ it doesn’t mean I have to be the one to give him a shower!” _

“Okay, but I’m too short!” Yumeno whisper-argued. “You think someone as short as me would be able to reach his chest or shoulders?! He’s a freaking tree and I don’t know how to climb!”

Shirogane and Harukawa both choked. “Don’t be disgusting!” Harukawa hissed. “I’m fairly short too! Shirogane’s closer to his height, so clearly she’s the better choice!”

A devious lightbulb flickered in Shirogane’s head. _I could create ship tease out of this. _“But Harukawa-san,” she said innocently, “isn’t this the perfect chance for you?” Shirogane grinned, unable to hide her mirth. “You have a crush on him, right?”

Harukawa’s face turned cherry red; she shoved Shirogane in the shoulder, ignoring her giggling as she pointedly turned away.

“Oooh,” Yumeno waggled her brows. “That’s kinda sexy. Tenderly washing the back of the person you love, running your fingers through their hair with shampoo and conditioner, the water running and making it _literally _steamy--” Yumeno pumped a fist. “Alright, Shirogane! You and me are gonna back off so we can give Harumaki a chance to develop her relationship further--”

“Shut up!” Harukawa’s voice cracked, and her malice sounded overwhelmingly more like embarrassment. “I’m _not_ giving Kaito a bath!”

“I’m literally_ right here,”_ Kiibo interrupted, cheeks flushed. He sighed as he set down the bag of supplies in his hand, recently acquired from the infirmary and the warehouse. “We’re both boys; I can do it. Besides, you guys do know that you don’t give unconscious people full body showers, right? Just a washcloth is fine...”

All three girls turned crimson. 

Harukawa mumbled out a quiet “R-Right”, walking away. Shirogane lowered her head. _Freaking robot ruining my attempts at romantic character development!_

Yumeno only raised a brow. “I thought robots were genderless?”

Kiibo frowned. “I’m nonbinary, but I use he/him pronouns.”

“But you’re a robot.”

“Don’t be robophobic, Yumeno-san!” Kiibo retorted, audibly wincing and holding his head. “That’s just how I am--”

“JUST--” Shirogane really couldn’t handle it anymore. “Just--” she waved a hand halfheartedly between Kiibo and Momota. “Just wash Momota-kun off so we can rest, Kiibo-kun,” she sighed. “Please.”

_After I went to bed yesterday, I was able to create a new console. If any of them are still dubious about the outer space thing, this should make them believe in it more… and it should encourage them a little bit, too._

Kiibo took out a washcloth and went to Momota’s bathroom, rinsing it in the sink. Yumeno patted Harukawa’s shoulder, trying to comfort her for her loss; Harukawa swatted her hand away.

_Once Momota wakes up, we can watch it..._

=

_Yeesh, he tosses and turns a lot in his sleep, _Ouma mused, drumming his fingers on his journal as he observed. _My scarf’s over his face now…_

He was sitting cross-legged beside Saihara, waiting for the other boy to wake up. It’d been a day-- in that time, Ouma had taken a shower, ate a little bit (he’d put some food in the exisal before the whole Death Road fiasco), and written.

Writing out plans with _Saihara_ as the variable was hard. Momota was an idiot, so it was easy to speculate the different ways things could play out, but with Saihara instead… well. There was no telling what an irrational, intelligent maniac like him would do. 

Saihara looked like some quiet, prim and proper prude on the outside, but the more Ouma had observed him, the more he found Saihara was passionate: simply put, he cared. Caring meant that you’d do stupid things. You wouldn’t focus on logical things like survival; you’d indulge yourself.

(Ouma hated the idea of letting himself loose like that.)

Saihara stirred; Ouma quietly got up, putting his journal away. 

_Time to act as villainous as possible._

=

Saihara’s eyes fluttered open. There were lights blurring his vision, but he attributed that to sleepiness. There was a weight on his face, over his mouth and nose. He slowly reached his arm up to take it off and hold it above his head.

A killer headache dulled his mind. His vision adjusted, and he could make out a checker pattern.

_Ouma-kun’s… scarf…?_

An image in his head, blurry in the background but clear everywhere else. There was Ouma in front of him, panicked, sweating, crying, hurriedly taking his scarf off of his neck with one hand and digging his fingernails into Saihara’s arm with the other, shoving the scarf into his face--

_ **‘SHUICHI, DON’T BREATHE--!’** _

Saihara shot up instantly, eyes wide in fear as he let out a strangled yell.

He gripped the scarf like a lifeline, sweating and panting panicked, heavy breaths as he scrambled to sit on his knees. _That place. That place, that person, the gas-- _

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Ouma commented drolly, chin in his hand, vastly different from the Ouma in Saihara’s memory vision. Saihara whirled around, eyes still wide.

“Ouma-kun,” he breathed. “Where--” he looked around, finally realizing just where he was. “Where are-- the exisal hangar?”

“My beloved Saihara-chan’s so sharp,” Ouma sighed wistfully. He grinned cruelly. “Now, if only he was sharp enough to realize that I’d force him to work with me if he didn’t accept my proposition earlier.”

Saihara narrowed his eyes.

_I was getting strangled, but it’s not like I couldn’t hear what was going on… at the very least, above all the shouting, I heard Ouma-kun sounding confused and frantic for a bit._

Saihara blinked. _Wait a minute. I was getting strangled. _Gingerly, he touched his neck, then his throat. _Why doesn’t it hurt anymore…?_

“Strange, isn’t it?” Ouma whistled, staying where he was. “There aren’t any marks on you. Almost like you’re special!”

_Ouma-kun’s neck… it feels weird to see it without the scarf, but… there are some faint marks on his neck, so it’s not like it’s impossible for me to have any…_

“I’d rather not be special,” Saihara replied carefully. He kept his mouth shut after that, observing. Though he was leading the conversation, Ouma was still staying in place. _If he really is in charge of everything here, wouldn’t he move around more freely? Especially if kidnapping me actually was one of his goals…_

“You’re so _quiet,_ jeez,” Ouma pouted. “Always thinking like what you’re looking at isn’t straightforward… Don’t you ever talk?”

“...” There were a number of answers Saihara could’ve given to that question-- that he’d usually give whenever people asked him that question, like ‘don’t _you_ ever shut up?’-- but instead, he chose to say: “You’re avoiding something, Ouma-kun.”

(Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but for a split second, Ouma looked annoyed.)

“You still seem to be under the impression that I’m a good guy,” Ouma sighed at last, twirling his hair. He smiled. “Sorry, sweetie! I’m evil.”

_You sound like you’re trying too hard. _“Even if you have everyone else believing your mastermind gambit, I don’t,” Saihara grit his teeth, feeling the pain of a headache pounding his skull. “I _know _you.”

“The Ouma Kokichi you think you know is a lie,” Ouma said cheerfully. His face morphed, darkening. “I’m the mastermind, and I’m the one who’s killing all your friends and forcing you into trials. The sooner you accept that truth, the less you’ll suffer.”

“If you were the mastermind,” Saihara began, licking his lips. “If you were the mastermind, then why did you allow yourself to get caught up in a murder?”

Ouma scoffed, at last moving to where Saihara was. “What, am I not allowed to spice things up a bit? I don’t like it when things get boring, Saihara-chan.”

“If you were the mastermind,” Saihara continued, “why did you try so hard in the investigations to find things, to the point that you concussed yourself and made your whole head bleed?”

Ouma’s lip quivered. “T-That… that was just an accident…” 

Saihara’s eyes widened.

Ouma snatched his scarf from Saihara’s hands and tied it up around his own neck. “...Not. That was a lie! I purposely slipped and crashed through that floorboard to draw your attention to it. Just teasing my favorite detective,” he winked. 

Saihara frowned, then sighed. “If you were the mastermind, Ouma-kun… then why did you care?”

“I don’t care,” Ouma smiled. “Didn’t you hear? Caring went out of mode in the summer of 1945.”

“You do!” Saihara insisted, ignoring the historical jab. “You cried for Gonta-kun and Iruma-san, you almost died getting executed, you even--”

“If you’re just gonna repeat what you did in the trial room, Saihara-chan, then I’ll just stop you now,” Ouma yawned, walking away. “I’m not gonna wait around just to listen to you wax poetic about how you think I’m some angel. Find a new person to stan, if you have to have one.”

Saihara paused, then sighed again, letting his head drop. “Can I have water, Ouma-kun?” he asked, somewhat meekly. “My throat feels dry, so…”

“There’s a fridge in the--” Ouma paused, standing still, then laughed. “Nice _try. _I’m not gonna be nice to you. You’re my prisoner, so you’ll have to get it yourself!”

_Damn. _Saihara tsked, then walked further into the exisal hangar, where he knew the fridge was. “I think that proves that Gonta-kun was right,” he said, taking out a water bottle from the fridge. “You _are _kind at heart. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered telling me there was a fridge with water in it.”

“Just because you almost pranked me doesn’t mean I’m not evil,” Ouma declared innocently, sitting back down cross-legged and clicking his pen, opening his journal to a fresh page. “I could just wanna torture you longer by keeping you alive with water.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I could be very gullible,” Ouma fluttered his lashes.

Saihara stared at him. _That word doesn’t suit you one bit. _He looked back at the fridge. There were plenty of water bottles, but there was also a surprising amount of blood bags. _That can’t be sanitary…_

“Those were in here from the start,” Ouma said nonchalantly. “I think every fridge in the academy has some. I checked all of them for grape panta because I was dying for something that actually had taste and whaddaya know! I fainted every time seeing the blood, even if it was in bags instead of splattered all over the place like a real-life version of Saw.” Ouma looked at Saihara curiously. “Didja know that, Saihara-chan? I’m suuuper squeamish! If I see blood, it’s game over! I faint and then you’ll have to deal with my split personality! My female alternate persona, Ouma Kichiko!”

“I’m sure she’s a delight,” Saihara rolled his eyes.

“She’s a serial killer!” Ouma beamed.

“If you really got sick seeing blood, then why would you have asked me to commit seppuku and beg for my life as a game?” Saihara interrupted, his brows furrowed and his voice tired, a little frustrated with the one-sidedness of the conversation. 

“Aww, you remembered!” Ouma giggled. 

Saihara turned back to the fridge._ Him aside, these blood bags must’ve given Toujo-san a fright when she first saw them in the kitchen, _he mused. _Imagine going to the fridge expecting meat or vegetables to cook and seeing bags of blood instead…_

Toujo. It had been so long since she’d last been alive with them, and yet, hardly any time had passed. 

It hurt.

...What did Ouma mean by ‘from the start’?

Saihara closed the fridge, turning his attention back to Ouma, who was now focused on writing. The scritch-scratch of his pen moving across the page nagged at Saihara’s ears; the only other noise was the hum of the fridge.

What was the point of Ouma acting like this? Like they were playing a game of cat and mouse, rather than one of life and death? Constantly lying and deflecting…

_Obviously, _Saihara thought, _because he’s scared. Or something like that… Trusting others is hard, especially when everyone seems to view you negatively._

The scritching of the pen somehow grew louder, and Saihara’s eye twitched. What was Ouma even _writing?_ Why would a mastermind bother with writing something for such a long period of time?

Saihara opened the bottle he’d taken out and drank from it; his parched throat welcomed the stream of water. Rubbing his wrist against his mouth, he closed the cap, then set the bottle down, quietly going to where Ouma was.

Ouma, somehow sensing his footsteps, closed the journal before Saihara could look at its contents and smiled at him. “No peeking.”

“What are you writing?” Saihara asked, straight to the point.

Ouma pocketed the journal. “Prisoners don’t get to ask questions.”

Saihara narrowed his eyes. “You and I both know that you didn’t intend to kidnap me, Ouma-kun.”

“...You really wanna know what I was writing?” Ouma sighed, frowning seriously as he set the journal down. Saihara lit up. “It was a letter to your mom. I thought very long and hard about it, and eventually I decided that she had to know her son is an absolute hack of a detectOW OW OW--”

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara pinched his cheeks, irritation at its peak. “You’re impossible.”

Ouma rubbed at his cheeks. “I’ll have you killed for that.”

Saihara sighed. He paused. “Are you writing out… a plan?”

Ouma smirked, a cheshire grin slowly spreading across his face. “What makes you think that, Saihara-chan?”

“If you were the mastermind, there’d be no reason to spend so long writing,” Saihara put a hand over his mouth. “That too, on a new page. If you were just going over what you’d planned from the start, as a mastermind would do, then you’d be writing on older, pre-written pages. But instead, you started writing on a new page.”

“You’re looking too much into it,” Ouma waved a hand dismissively. “I just like the smell of new pages, since they don’t have bloodstains and all.”

“No, I’m not,” Saihara insisted. “You started writing on a new page, as if you had to start writing entirely new plans. The exisal was aiming for Kaito, but I pushed him out of the way and you grabbed me instead.”

“Saihara-chan--”

“You said something like ‘why’s this--’, implying that you didn’t understand either why I pushed Kaito, or why the exisal was choking me. There were button-pushing noises, so you were probably trying to stop it, but then you gave up, realizing that if you tried to let me go, then everyone would know you weren’t the mastermind and your plan would fall apart.” Saihara’s breathing was heavier, and his pupils were dilated. “Am I right?”

=

_He really does get a kick out of analyzing and finding stuff out, _Ouma marvelled internally. _If he were any less pure, I’d assume he gets off on it._

“You aren’t the mastermind,” Saihara repeated. “You just created an elaborate plan to make it seem like you are, probably to stop the real mastermind and sabotage the killing game.”

“...”

It was simultaneously irritating and awe-inspiring, how quickly Saihara could deduce the truth if he put his mind to it. The crying, trembling detective who was scared of the truth nearly a month ago was a completely different person now.

“Am I right?” Saihara asked again, and Ouma was startled out of his reverie.

_He’s almost _pushy_ now. _Maybe it wouldn’t be bad, trusting him for a little bit.

“You’re wrong,” Ouma lied at last, looking at his nails in disdain. “I can’t believe you put that much thought into it.”

_...I can’t get that idealistic._

Saihara frowned. “You’re lying.”

Ouma only shrugged. _I like you, but for fuck’s sake, stop figuring me out so fast! _“If you wanna believe so, go ahead.”

“What was your original plan with Kaito?” Saihara seemed to switch gears, changing tactics. 

“I was gonna kill whoever I took,” Ouma replied. “I changed my mind on a whim.”

“Just like how you wrote a letter to my mom on a whim, huh,” Saihara said drily. He sighed.

_Your attempts aren’t working, Saihara-chan, _Ouma thought. _Give it up._ “I’m gonna sleep.”

“Huh?” Saihara blinked. “W-Wait, I’m not done--”

“It’s ten at night, Saihara-chan,” Ouma yawned, dusting off a patch of the floor and laying down on it, closing his eyes and enjoying the image of Saihara’s indignant face that played behind his eyelids. “You were passed out for a whole day, and you woke up at the wrong time.”

Saihara looked at his watch in disbelief. “No wa--_ hey.”_ He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “You didn’t fiddle around with my watch just to mess with me, did you?”

Ouma pretended to snore.

_“Did you?!_ Ouma-kun!” Saihara moved to shake him by the shoulders. “Ouma-kun--”

Ouma opened an eye and grinned. “Aw, my beloved’s calling my name out so sweetly! Keep doing that, Saihara-chan! Your voice is sooooo cute!” 

“What did you do to my watch,” Saihara ignored him, dead serious.

_Right, it was a gift from his aunt and uncle, so… wait. How did I know that?_ “I didn’t do anything,” Ouma yawned again, too tired and too annoyed by the headaches to even lie. “The time’s accurate, just shut up and sleep.”

“...I’ll take your offer from the virtual world.”

Both of Ouma’s eyes shot open.

“I’ll work together with you,” Saihara rephrased. “If you’re trying to stop the mastermind… I’ll work together with you to do it.”

=

“If you still feel the same way tomorrow,” Ouma said at last, “then talk to me.”

“As long as your plan doesn’t involve people dying, I’ll help!” Saihara insisted. 

“Aw, but those plans are the most fun!” Ouma pouted. He turned over and pretended to snore again. Saihara knew that Ouma didn’t snore when he slept-- _wait, how do I know that?_\-- so he continued to pester the other boy. “Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun--”

_No, he won’t be annoyed by that. He has like, nine or ten younger siblings. He’s probably used to this sort of thing. How can I…_

Saihara’s gaze trailed to the hydraulic press, and suddenly, he felt very, _very _stupid.

“Did you plan on using the hydraulic press to fake a murder?” Saihara asked.

Ouma opened an eye. “No.”

“That’s a lie,” Saihara said with confidence. “You used the electrobombs to make sure nobody could come in here. There are blood bags in the fridge… You could’ve used Kaito’s coat and the blood bags to make it look like he got crushed. Since he’s sick, all of us would’ve thought he died for real.”

“Write a book, Saihara-chan,” Ouma kicked his leg up, staring at his foot like it was a new world wonder. “You’ve got a real case of overactive imagination.”

“I’m not wrong,” Saihara said, now sure of himself. “Kaito doesn’t like you, so we’d all assume you did kill him. But you and Kaito could’ve gone into an exisal or two to hide, since you proved earlier that they’re big enough for people to pilot. And then… there’d be a trial, and then we’d guess you were the killer, and then we’d be wrong, because neither of you would have died to begin with.”

Ouma sighed, letting his leg fall back to the floor. “...”

“You wanted to force the game to end by holding an invalid trial,” Saihara said, eyes wide. “Right?”

=

_I don’t want to care. I don’t want to let myself loose, or reveal all my cards._

_But for the sake of this plan, and because Saihara is smart enough…_

_I’ll have to concede for this round._

=

“...How the fuck do you even_ reach _conclusions like that without any evidence,” Ouma grumbled, sitting up and seeming to give up his act. “Fucking hell…” he ran his fingers through his hair. “This is why I needed to get a moron like Momota and not you.”

“So I _am_ right,” Saihara breathed, pleased with himself.

“Congratulations, asshole,” Ouma muttered. “You have a brain.”

_I think you just decided that there was no more point in avoiding me… And that if you wanted to use whoever you kidnapped in your plan, you had to openly admit to them that you’re not the mastermind… _“It’s not really like me to do that,” Saihara agreed. “But when we’re in a situation this serious…” he trailed off.

“...Why did you assume that Monokuma-- or Monophanie, now that he’s dead-- wouldn’t know that nobody died?” Ouma asked. “In your hypothetical trial scenario.” 

Saihara blinked. He hadn’t considered it in detail, but… “Because… you used the electrobomb on this place, so even if there were hidden cameras for him to spy on us, they’d be disabled. Right?”

Ouma hummed, looking like he was thinking about something. Saihara thought Ouma murmured something like ‘close enough’, but perhaps he was hearing things.

“Sure, I guess,” Ouma finally said. He made an angry face, putting his hands on his hips. “But now that the press is broken, that plan is null and void. Rude, Saihara-chan! How dare you break it!”

“Urk…” Saihara bit his lip, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “S-Sorry…”

Ouma blinked, face blank. “Huh?”

Saihara blinked back, confused. “S-Sorry? You knew I broke the press on purpose, right? I ripped the cord apart because I thought it’d be dangerous if someone tried to use it.”

Ouma blinked at Saihara again. “You.” Saihara nodded. _“You _broke the press?” Saihara nodded again.

Ouma cracked his knuckles and stood up, face dark and expressionless.

Saihara suddenly felt a distinct air of danger around him. “U-Um. Ouma-kun? What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Ouma smiled, gritting his teeth. “For ruining my entire plan.” 

Saihara let out a noise that sounded like a mixture of ‘eep’ and ‘yikes’, but Ouma sighed, face back to normal. He ruffled his own hair with one hand and bit a fingernail of the other. “It’s fine. As long as nobody else knows that it’s broken, we can still--”

“Ah, actually…” Saihara scratched his cheek. “Kiibo-kun was with me the whole time while we investigated the hangar, and he saw me break the cord…”

Silence. Ouma’s face was blank; Saihara winced, unable to decipher whether he was mad or freaking out. At last: “Would you like to be murdered by exisal or by bare fists,” Ouma said gravely.

“N-Neither?” Saihara said, wincing again.

“I’m being nice by giving you a choice, my beloved,” Ouma’s voice sounded strangled. “Now pick. Death by exisal, or by my own hands?”

“Maybe you can-- um-- contact your organization and have them kill me after we escape this academy?” Saihara felt stupid even trying to suggest it. “We can still formulate a plan even with the press out of commission…”

Ouma paused, then brought his hands down, grinning. “Mm, that’s a better idea. You’re right, supreme leaders shouldn’t dirty their own hands.”

_It worked…_ Saihara breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey…” he began again, licking his lips. “Why did you do all of this?” Ouma perked up. “What was the point… of making it so that nobody trusted you, and then finally implementing whatever plan you had in mind?”

Ouma looked around carefully, then shrugged. “You’re a detective, aren’t you? Think about everything that’s happened so far, and then you tell me. We have time, since the others will probably spend a few days trying to heal Momota-chan.”

_Everything_ _that’s happened so far? _

Saihara thought back. There was a lot. The lockers, meeting everyone else, seeing the exisals. Amami’s death, Akamatsu’s execution. Hoshi, Toujo, Chabashira, Angie, Shinguji, Iruma, Gonta… all of them had died. There were all the headaches. The murders and executions, the motives…

“Saihara-chan,” Ouma finally said, “think about the nature of this killing game with me for a minute. Why would Monokuma bother coming up with all these inane rules for us to follow?”

With that, Ouma left. Well, not really-- the exisal hangar wasn’t particularly big. Ouma was really just a few feet away. And yet, Saihara indulged him anyway. The rules of the game… There wasn’t anything particularly off about them individually. But Saihara knew that that couldn’t be the answer Ouma was looking for.

_Rules… why are there rules to begin with? If it was just sixteen of us here, and if we’re now finding out that we’re in space…_

_...What’s the point?_

“Rules,” Ouma said loudly, twirling his hair, “are created by people in charge, for people they hold power over. Leading an organization means that you create rules to keep people in line. But rules for a game are a little different, don’tcha think?”

_...He’s trying awfully hard to steer me to a certain answer. Like he’s trying to give me a push… _

The killing game… was a game. Saihara hated the idea of calling the game fun, or even game-like, but if it was a killing _game…_

_All games have rules. And when someone breaks those rules, others will say it’s unfair, or that the game is ruined… so a game with strict rules would only have those rules in place because others are playing with the player, right? But there’s just us… unless…_

Saihara froze.

_There’s someone else?_

Ouma cooed. “You look like you’ve realized something.”

“We’re being watched,” Saihara breathed. “By one… or more people?”

“Ding ding ding!” Ouma made a circle above his head with his arms. “Congratulations, you figured out something I had a meltdown over like, three or four weeks ago.”

“B-But how? There aren’t any cameras I’ve noticed aside from the monitors in each room,” Saihara protested. “And--” he looked around at the hangar. “There aren’t monitors in this hangar, so…”

“Wiretap,” Ouma corrected. “Bugs. The computer kind. Not the creepy-crawly kind, those give me hives and then I die from excessive sneezing just by looking at them.”

“You scream and foam at the mouth when you interact with real insects,” Saihara murmured, pensive hand over his mouth; Ouma clicked his tongue. “But if the whole place is bugged with microscopic things, then…” He looked up. “The electrobombs took care of those, too?”

“This whole hangar and its surrounding area are bug-less. They’re all deactivated and sitting in a vacuum I had Iruma make,” Ouma jabbed a finger towards the fridge in the back. “In there.”

“It’s not in there,” Saihara furrowed his brows. “I checked when I got water, remember?”

“Just kidding, it’s in one of the exisals,” Ouma giggled.

“...I haven’t been to the bathroom in this hangar since I woke up,” Saihara said, at last figuring out where Ouma actually kept them. Ouma pouted; Saihara hid a laugh behind his hand. “So… you got rid of those bugs too, so Monokuma-- er, Monophanie wouldn’t know what was happening in here. You gave us the electrobombs and hammers so we’d eventually come in here and see a fake dead body.”

It was so delightful to Saihara, finally being able to understand. It all made_ sense._

“Everything is to end the game,” Ouma said at last. “The ends justify the means. They won’t continue the game if we show them the rules are rigged.”

It was exhilarating. But at the same time, Saihara really wondered. “...I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think you can ever beat an unjust game if you continue to play by its rules, even if you are making a valid point that it’s rigged.”

“The only way to win a game like that is to just not play it,” Ouma sniffed. “But we lost that option a long time ago.” 

“Then our only other choice is to plan,” Saihara said, smiling. “We can do it by working together, Ouma-kun. We have several days, don’t we?”

Ouma looked at him and smiled, then averted his gaze, covering the rising edge of his mouth with his scarf. 

“Let’s do it.”

Saihara beamed.

“After we sleep, because it’s past 10:30 and I’m tired as fuck,” Ouma finished his statement, lying down on the cold, hard floor and pretending to snore immediately.

Saihara’s mouth, once agape, now closed as he shook his head, stifling laughter. _He really is impossible. But, well…_

_...I think we can create a plan that works, if we do it together._

=

The others seemed worried about Saihara, upset if not angry with Ouma, and scared about Momota. Panic was good; it was a killing game staple, but Shirogane hated that it was caused by something that was out of her control. 

_Ouma wouldn’t actually kill Saihara, would he…? Even if he’s a character I created, there’s no telling exactly what can happen now…_

Startled gasps broke her out of her thoughts. “I-Is Momota-kun awake now?” Shirogane asked, brows tugging up in worry.

“Kaito,” Harukawa breathed out, relieved. “Kaito--!”

“Nyeh… Momota, can you breathe?” Yumeno asked quietly, bringing out a bouquet of flowers from behind her ear and setting them in a glass near his bedside table.

“Mmh,” Momota nodded, eyes shifting across the room. He sighed, sitting up more properly.

“Now that you’re awake…” Kiibo fidgeted, holding his head. “we can think of what to do about Ouma-kun and Saihara-kun.”

“All of us are in space right now and Ouma’s gone insane,” Yumeno rolled her eyes. “I don’t like him, and I don’t trust or believe anything he says.”

“I definitely don’t trust him either,” Kiibo sighed. “But after everything that’s happened to him, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that he’s just gone off the hinges from the stress of the killing game…”

_Oh, come on! I get being sympathetic for villains, but this is ridiculous! _Shirogane wrinkled her nose indignantly, then sneezed; Yumeno patted her arm. _You’re not supposed to know that he’s good or care about him a lot after any of this!_

“I don’ trust ‘im at all,” Momota said, voice scratchy. He tried and failed to clear his throat and continued. “He doesn’t have an ounce of ma sympathy.” 

Shirogane would’ve cried tears of joy if she could. _That’s my astronaut! Yes! You always were one of my favorites!_

Momota yawned. “But anyway, look… that outer space thing… It sorta has to be bullshit.”

It was like someone had poured ice water on her face. Shirogane stiffened. “W-What do you mean?”

“Let’s say this place--” Momota gestured around the room, “--is actually some really high tech spaceship. If we’re actually flying through space right now, how come we saw Earth behind that door?”

“That’s… true…” understanding appeared to dawn on Harukawa. “How could we see and feel the apocalypse behind that door on Earth if we’re in space?”

“M-Maybe we were temporarily docked on Earth?” Shirogane suggested awkwardly. “Hm…”

“Takes a lot more than that to dock a space shuttle,” Momota clicked his tongue. “Even if this is high tech-- which I think is _weird_ because I’m sure that JAXA or especially NASA would’ve told me if they had tech this great-- there’s a lot more procedures that you need both on our end and on the end of the planet we’re landing on--”

“H-Huh?” Shirogane said a bit loudly, intentionally drawing attention to the console she’d discreetly placed in the room. “When did-- when did this get here?”

Yumeno blinked at Shirogane, then narrowed her eyes.

“Is that--” Kiibo bit back a groan. _The audience must be really killing him lately,_ Shirogane mused. “Is that another console with the memory things in it?”

“Looks like it,” Harukawa muttered.

“Should we…?” Momota looked at the others warily.

_If I want them to watch it, I’ll need to take a page out of their book._ “I-It can’t hurt, right?” Shirogane suggested gently. “Since they usually don’t give us headaches, we might as well look.”

“I’ll play it then,” Kiibo decided, offering himself up. Shirogane handed him the console.

(She ignored the headache she felt upon seeing him play the Death Road route again.)

And then, as she’d expected, a flash of light. The Gofer Project. Them being in outer space.

They were students of Hope’s Peak Academy.

And then the headaches struck. All of them let out yells at once, hands flying to their heads.

_(It’s fictional, _Shirogane reminded herself, as the name of the school twisted itself in her mind.)

Ultimate Despair. The Remnants of Despair.

(Kiibo screamed, nearly writhing on the floor.)

The Ultimate Hunt.

(Harukawa, Momota, and Yumeno were having a hard time breathing.)

Enoshima Junko--

_It’s fictional._

And the role Ouma had in hijacking the Gofer Project, in being the one behind the revival of Ultimate Despair. Their headaches dissipated, and the video ended. 

Kiibo was still shaking, eyes wide, as he got up. “Ha,” he ran trembling hands through his hair, clenching fistfuls of hair as if it would stop his inner voice or headache pain. “Haha! Hope’s Peak Academy! Of course!”

“Fuck,” Momota coughed. “Fuck--”

“We got headaches,” Harukawa trembled, nails digging into her arms. “Which means--”

“These memories are the truth,” Yumeno shook. She whined, pulling her hat down to cover her eyes. “That console…”

“Hey…” Shirogane gulped, shaking. “N-Now that I think about it… D-Didn’t Ouma-kun always-- always brag… about having an evil organization with over 10,000 members?”

Now it was all of their turns to look like someone had poured ice water over their faces. Shirogane relished the sight, took glee in the helplessness and futility of the remaining survivors’ expressions as they put two and two together. 

“Ouma is the leader of Ultimate Despair,” Harukawa wrinkled her nose at the memory. “He’s leading the Remnants of Despair, and he hijacked this spaceship?”

“Which means… Shuichi could end up being brainwashed into Despair by him,” Momota froze. “And by killing everyone here, Despair will prevail…”

“That’s only if we leave him there long enough,” Kiibo said boldly. “We have to save him!” 

“B-But how?!” Shirogane pretended to sob. “T-The exisal hangar-- I, I-- I, um-- went there once, to see what it looked like-- and there was an electric barrier to the door!”

“Those electrohammer things Ouma gave us!” Yumeno insisted. She looked around until she found the box with them in it. “We don’t have the bombs anymore, but look!” She held up an electrohammer with both hands. “They’re rechargeable.”

“B-But how can we charge them?” Shirogane asked. “Ouma-kun only ever gave us the hammers themselves…”

“Ouma-kun gave us the hammers?” Kiibo blinked, hand slowly reaching away from his head. “Hold on… where could he have gotten them from?”

“That’s irrelevant, isn’t it?” Harukawa grit her teeth. 

Kiibo shook his head. “No! Think about it-- Ouma-kun is smart, but he doesn’t even have an Ultimate lab or resources at his disposal.”

“There’s the warehouse,” Harukawa pointed out.

“That only has raw materials,” Kiibo dismissed. “Hear me out, please! The only person with both the resources and the experience to invent something like this is Iruma-san.”

It was like a lightbulb turned on in everyone’s heads. 

“Of course,” Momota coughed, grinning. “Obviously Iruma would--”

“If we’re lucky,” Kiibo licked his lips, “then the charging ports for these things should still be in her lab!”

“Nyeh… Let’s go, then,” Yumeno urged.

Momota nodded. “Alright! We’re all gonna go see if there’s still a charging station in Iruma’s lab.”

“It’s our last chance,” Harukawa breathed, already helping Momota out of his bed and running out the door with the others. “Come on.”

Sure enough, sitting beneath Iruma’s worktable, now with a thin layer of dust over it, was a charging port for the three electrohammers. Harukawa, being the strongest there, carried it back to Momota’s dorm room-- their new unofficial meeting place.

They loaded the electrohammers into the charging port and talked.

“We have a means of beating the security system on the exisal hangar,” Momota announced, loud and clear. “Once these things finish charging, we’ll rescue Shuichi!”

“It takes a week to charge, though!” Kiibo beeped in worry. 

_A week?! _Shirogane whirled around, looking at the charging port. _That’s way too long! _She bit her nails, pushing away thoughts of _him _that threatened to flood her head when she noticed the chipped nail polish. _It needs to be shorter than that! It has to take less than a week!_

“Huh…?” Kiibo blinked. “That’s weird. I didn’t do anything to it, but... it says it’ll take three days now…”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Yumeno scoffed. “Whatever, Iruma probably had dust rattling in her brain while she decided how long the charging would take.”

“Don’t be rude,” Kiibo frowned. His face softened. “It’s because of her that we even have this chance.”

The room stagnated with solemn silence.

“Whatever the case,” Momota announced hotly. “Three days. We’ll take these things and storm the exisal hangar. We’ll save Shuichi!”

_Still holding onto that leader complex, I see. Well… Knowing him, he’s a lot more worried and scared than he looks._

The others nodded, determined.

_And now they’re reinvigorated,_ Shirogane thought smugly as they all left the room to sleep for the night. _Perfect._

_Even if I can’t see anything in that area on the monitors in my secret room anymore, it’ll be okay._

_Whatever Ouma’s planning… it’ll all come crashing down sooner or later._

=

_I have to let Shuichi know that we’re going to do this. I have to make sure that he hasn’t been taken by despair…!_

If she wasn’t sick with worry before, Harukawa definitely was now, with the knowledge that Shuichi was holed up with the leader of the Remnants of Despair. She snuck through the halls and courtyards, making her way to the exisal hangar with the help of her Monopad. 

The electrohammers were their last chance. And if Saihara was desperate, well…

...She wanted to help him, the way he and Momota helped her way back when.

_There should be a window around here…_ Harukawa lit up when she saw it, going towards it and peeking through. It was a bathroom window, and--

_Shuichi’s at the sink._

Harukawa rapped on the glass, trying to get Saihara’s attention. Saihara turned around, eyes bulging when he saw who it was.

“Maki?!” His shock was muffled by the glass. He shut off the faucet, then went to the window and opened it.

“You’re okay,” Harukawa croaked. Tears welled in her eyes all of a sudden; the emotion and stress of everything hitting her all at once. She scrubbed at her eyes with her wrists and leaned her arm in through the window.

“What are you doing?” Saihara whispered, furrowing his brows.

“Gimme your hand so I know it’s really you and not some robot fake,” Harukawa sniffled.

Saihara obediently gave her his hand, gaze softening. “I’m alright, Maki.” His hand was more cold than it was warm, but it was alive. It felt like a person. It didn’t feel like the memory of Ultimate Despair…

“We’re gonna rescue you,” Harukawa said, voice steely. “All five of us.”

Saihara’s eyes widened; his hand jerked slightly. “What?”

“We’re rescuing you,” she said, a little breathless now that the reality of the statement settled in her head. “The electrohammers are charging. In three days, we’re all gonna storm this place and get you away from Ouma. He’s the leader of the Remnants of Despair--” Harukawa paused, squeezing Saihara’s hand as he let out a cry and held his head. “We won’t let him influence you or hurt you, okay? Even if he did interfere with the Gofer Project… It’s a lot to take in, but we’re here and we’re prepared,” she smiled, more to reassure herself than to reassure him.

Saihara flinched. “Ouma-kun’s coming back,” he whispered. “Maki, I have to go--”

Harukawa took in a deep breath, squeezing Saihara’s hand once more for good measure. “We’ll come for you, Shuichi. Three days. And if you manage to escape before that… come to the dorm area and knock on Kaito’s door. Okay?”

Saihara nodded shakily. “Mm.”

Reluctantly, Harukawa left, stealthily making her way back to her dorm room.

_He’s alive. He’s okay. It looks like Ultimate Despair hasn’t affected him yet._

Her head throbbed.

_If we’re lucky, we can make it. _

_Three days couldn’t pass faster._

=

Saihara had lied about Ouma coming back-- the boy in question was fast asleep in the main hangar past the bathroom door.

_What the fuck is a Remnant of Despair and why did it give me a headache? _Saihara’s mind raced. _This is bad. If I’m getting headaches, and Maki is mentioning a bunch of terms I don’t recognize…_

What it meant was that the mastermind-- the real one, since Saihara knew for sure now that it wasn’t Ouma-- had somehow persuaded the others to start up the game again by making them view Ouma as a villain. But he couldn’t _tell _Harukawa that, because she’d believe that Ouma forced him to believe it-- if she thought Ouma was a Remnant of Despair, or its leader, or whatever the hell _any_ of it meant, she wouldn’t stand for Saihara defending him.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara shook the other boy by the shoulders. “Ouma-kun.”

Ouma grumbled in his sleep, brows furrowing.

_Cute…_ Saihara shook his head and slapped his cheeks. _No! Focus! This is bad! _

Three days… it was too short. Their current plans all had to do with creating a fake murder, but if the others were being strong-armed into orchestrating some ridiculous rescue attempt, that would have to be put on hold in favor of something else.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara whispered again, urgent. He sighed.

_If he won’t wake up now… then tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll tell him. I don’t know if they’re coming on the morning of the third day, or the afternoon, or the night, so we have to figure something out by the second day…_

“What,” Ouma finally said, groggily rubbing his eyes. “It’s fuck o’clock in the morning, Saihara-chan. Can’t an evil supreme leader get some shut-eye around here…?”

“They’re planning on storming this place and rescuing me in three days,” Saihara explained in a rush. “They got memories of more things-- Remnants of Despair, and--”

Ouma wrinkled his nose. “Shit--”

“And they’re saying you’re the leader of that group, and that you’ve hijacked the Gofer Project? Or something? So now they’ve been motivated to rescue me,” Saihara continued. “We only have three days, so what do we do?”

“We stay and let them kill me,” Ouma replied in a matter-of-fact way. “Goodnight.”

“No!” Saihara hissed. “Ouma-kun--”

“We leave this place and hide somewhere else so we can think of a better plan to end the game for good, since the mastermind clearly beat us here,” Ouma sighed. “But we can talk about it seriously tomorrow.”

“Somewhere else?” Saihara repeated, blinking. 

Ouma laid back down. _“Sleep_ for now. We have three days, right? We’ll have to be careful, but…” he bit his lip. “I know the perfect place.”

=

Momota couldn’t wait for the Electrohammers to charge. 

He lay in bed, his room dark save for a small, moon-themed nightlight plugged into the wall beside him. 

A Remnant of Despair. His head hurt again; his chest tightened, his lungs felt full of air and blood, and he felt dizzy just thinking about it-- which meant it had to be_ true_. Saihara was trapped in the exisal hangar with a Remnant of Despair.

Momota turned over, uncomfortable. 

There was a knife on his nightstand.

_Huh…?_ Momota rubbed his eyes groggily, blinking to look again. 

Monophanie stood in the shadows, her grayish-blue eyes staring straight at him, a dagger-like grin curving across her whole face as she held up the knife in her paw.

Momota screamed, then coughed and hacked.

“Don’t be scared,” Monophanie chided, setting the knife back on the nightstand before slowly edging into the light. “Sheesh, all I do is stand around and take notes and you all think I’m gonna kill you.”

“Wh-- huh--” Momota’s teeth chattered, holding up his blanket as if it were a shield. “What are... you…” he spoke weakly.

_“You’re _going to kill each other,” Monophanie smiled. “All for research, of course. Anyway, that’s my favorite knife!”

“Whaddoes that hafta do with anythin’,” Momota asked, confused. “What--”

“You’re a leader, aren’t you?” Monophanie cooed softly. “You _need_ to be the hero. If you aren’t, what else do you have? You’re sick. You’re holding everyone back. They’re all getting so far in their efforts to help Saihara-kun, and what are you doing? You can’t contribute anything but lip service in your sorry state. It’ll all be pointless...”

Momota froze. “I…”

“It’ll all be pointless otherwise,” Monophanie repeated. “You have a _chance _now, honey. Prove that you’re strong. Prove that you’re worth something. Prove that you aren’t a _waste of space.”_

Momota grit his teeth. “I--”

“Be sure to use my knife wisely, Momota Kaito-kun,” she grinned.

And then she disappeared. 

Momota looked left and right, up and down, underneath his blanket and tentatively underneath his bed. She was nowhere to be seen. He shivered. He never was good at creepy, horror-type stuff like this. It scared him a lot more than he liked to admit. 

_Shuichi… is probably scared right now. Desperate. Struggling. Ouma isn’t the kind of person who’d disappear like Monophanie._

_He’d strangle someone, whispering despair into their ear like it was nothing. Making them insecure, making them doubt and cry. Keeping his hold tighter and tighter, until despair was all the other person knew…_

_I… have to take on the role of a hero, don’t I…?_

Momota slowly slipped out of bed, clammy hands grabbing the knife by its handle. His breath hitched. It was a black handle, with a silver lining on the edge. The knife itself was jagged-- it looked a lot like a weapon that Harukawa may have had in her Ultimate lab.

His dizziness-- his_ headache--_ was excruciating.

_I don’t have anything else… I can’t save myself or my friends if I don’t prove that I’m capable… I have to..._

He put on a jacket and a pair of pants, then left the room with the knife and a map of the campus on his Monopad to go to the exisal hangar.

Every room in the academy was soundproof. Momota saw a small window, but there was only a bathroom there, and some heavy-duty door firmly shut. 

He caught his own reflection in the glass. His roots had grown out a surprising amount-- about three-quarters of his hair was a washed out purple, with the remaining fourth on top of his head being dark brown. His eyebrows and goatee, similarly, were more brown than purple. With no more hair gel, his hair fell to around shoulder length, framing his gaunt, pale, sweaty face; his teeth were stained a faint pinkish-red color. 

Put simply, Momota looked like a mess. 

Momota averted his gaze from the window. There was no way for him to talk to anyone, much less see Saihara’s face.

Saihara, who screamed and cried after Akamatsu’s death, who shook as Momota helped him up and looked like death itself.

Saihara, who helped him get Harukawa out of her shell, and their friendship throughout the game. 

Saihara, who he dragged to train every night, who sucked at pushups and hated exercise and was an introverted, intelligent, sarcastic nerd who smiled and called him ‘Kaito’.

Saihara, whose face drained of color with every passing second the exisal gripped his neck...

Momota went to the front entrance, with the electronic barrier blocking the hangar’s entrance and the keypad standing proudly in front of it. He brought himself to the keypad.

_Because I wasn’t a good leader… or a good hero… He could be dead. Shuichi could be dead or converted to Despair._

Momota held the knife above his head, gripping the handle with both hands.

_‘If one of you dies before you apologize and make up, you _will _regret it.’_

He took a deep, shaky breath, gritting his teeth.

_And it’d be all my fault… _

And then he swung.

“GIVE HIM BACK!” Momota screamed, voice raw, tears blurring his vision as he hacked the knife in between the keys. “GIVE HIM BACK, _OUMA!”_ he yelled, then coughed, unable to keep blood from dribbling out of his mouth or tears from falling out of his eyes, both splattering on the keypad in a terrible dance as he forced the knife around the board, slashing and slicing. “GIVE SHUICHI BACK!” he stabbed with as much strength as he could muster. “I HAVEN’T--”

The keypad was an utter mess of itself, riddled with slashes and stab marks, some keys having bent out of shape and fallen out entirely, if not caked in blood, sweat, and tears. And yet, the barrier was still up, its electricity mocking Momota and his pathetic efforts with its crackling light. 

Momota choked on a sob, sliding down til he was on his knees, still holding onto the knife handle. “Give him back,” he croaked--_ begged._ “I haven’t… apologized to him yet…”

He cried, coughing out more blood onto the floor, his hand sliding off the knife handle and brushing blood against the stand of the keypad as he heaved himself back up. Momota wrenched the knife out from the wrecked keypad. Miraculously, it was clean and unbent; not even a single blemish was on the shiny weapon. He held it in his hand, the jagged blade pressing so hard against the skin of his palm that a thin line of blood oozed out.

_You failed._

_All you can do now is wait for the electrohammers. All you can do is pray that Shuichi is still alive, and still unhurt._

_...You failure._

Momota stumbled back to his dorm room, exhausted.

Dizzily, he set the knife back down on his bedside table and wiped the bloodstains on his palm off on his pants leg. Wobbling, he sat on his bed, shucking off his pants and jacket and haphazardly tossing them into the closet. The remaining bloodstains could wait for the next morning. 

When Momota looked back at the nightstand, the knife was gone. _Just like how Monophanie’d disappeared… _

Momota grit his teeth, letting out a groan as he suddenly felt a headache. He slipped under the covers, pulling the blanket over himself and furiously wiping away the tears that peeked through his lashes. _That knife… and that bear… I feel like I remember… _

_ **‘I will protect you guys.’** _

** _‘So whatever you do…’_ **

_Blue-gray eyes… Where have I… seen them before…?_

Even as Momota drifted to sleep, the answer was only a blur.

=

In her bookshelf room, Shirogane switched off the monitor and closed her eyes.

_It’s fictional._

Seeing the knife in Momota’s room gave her a headache. Her head hurt, but such was to be expected since she also had her memories altered by Team Danganronpa for the sake of the plot. 

_It’s my story. It’s fictional. It’s my season._

The movie flashbacks were scary, but she wasn’t as bothered as she could’ve been. It was almost thrilling, seeing everything finally pieced together now that she regained memories of the Hope’s Peak Academy saga.

_It’s not real…_

_ <strike>It’s just a dream.</strike> _

_It’s just Danganronpa._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saihara: HHHHHH RESCUE PLAN  
ouma: let me fkn sleep saihara chan
> 
> I feel like I'm on the highest edge of a rollercoaster that's about to come hurtling downwards. It's kinda thrilling, seeing myself finally reach the place in the story I've been imagining in my head for over a year now.
> 
> I hope it was a fun (and painful!) chapter! rip Kaito, your suffering is for the sake of your character. 
> 
> Sorry once again for the wait, and thank you all for your patience. The next chapter should be out next Tuesday in accordance with the new schedule.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	42. 5-7. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yumeno tries out the scientific method.
> 
> Shirogane's show falls apart bit by bit, not that she understands why.
> 
> Saihara and Ouma play a fun little prank on their classmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting for this chapter!! It's one of my favorites, as pretty much all these final few chapters are. Hope you guys enjoy it~
> 
> EDIT: i forgot but!!!!!!!! THIS FIC REACHED 200k WORDS AND 500 KUDOS.... 😱 THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! 😭

** _Remember…_ **

** _You have to… remember…._ **

Kiibo let out a whining noise, eyes wide and twitching, and squeezed his pillow tighter over his head.

= 

_They’re all scared, but it’s okay. It’s fictional._

Shirogane yawned and stretched, then got up. _It’s all fictional, and those two will probably be caught once we go to the hangar. If not, then there could be a death. Which is fine, since it’s chapter 5 and there has to be…_

_Wait, that’s bad. Because the person kidnapped was the detective… _

Shirogane felt confused. _I know what’s technically supposed to happen, but it’s not going that way right now. _

Her head throbbed._ What..._

=

The first night had passed; there were only two more days and nights til they rescued Saihara. 

After breakfast the second morning, Yumeno went back to her dorm room. Alone on her bed, she flipped a coin across her knuckles and pondered. 

_‘Himiko-chan, what’s the most important skill for a performer to have?’_

She let herself fall back onto the mattress. His smile had been warm, and his eyes had been gentle and kind. He explained well and entertained others even better. His name was Kuroko, and he was the best mentor Yumeno could have asked for; one of the most important people to her, not including Chabashira. 

Yumeno continued flipping the coin.

_‘Performer?’_

_‘It doesn’t matter if you’re a magician, or an actor, or anything else,’ _Kuroko had explained patiently. _‘If you’re on a stage performing, this one thing is the most important skill to have.’ _

Yumeno had furrowed her brows. _‘Nyeh… I don’t know…’ _

She herself had been rather lazy, but Kuroko could always see past that. He could see the flash of interest that lit up her eyes. 

Kuroko had showed her an open hand with a smile. In it was a coin. _‘Watch this hand.’ _

Yumeno had watched it intently. Kuroko had closed his palm, then made wild movements with the fist, then held it steady in front of them as he opened it again. The coin was gone. He’d smiled, showing that he’d hidden the edge of the coin between his fingers.

Yumeno had blinked at him._ ‘Okay?’_

_‘Now, Himiko-chan,’_ Kuroko had smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes, _‘where’s your hair clip?’_

_‘Nyeh?!’_ Yumeno had patted her hair, then her pockets. _‘K-Kuroko, give it back!’_

_‘That’s Kuroko-san to you,’_ Kuroko had laughed, taking out his other hand and giving her the hair clip. 

Yumeno had grumbled._ ‘What was the point of that? T-Taking advantage of the fact that I was looking somewhere else…’_

_‘Look at me, Himiko-chan,’ _Kuroko had said, still smiling as he held up a finger. _‘People will focus on whatever you show them. If you do something else behind the scenes, they won’t know unless you either point it out or unless one of them has a very keen eye. When you want them to look at something else, you need to misdirect their attention.’_

_‘So?’ _Yumeno had raised a brow, looking up at him. _‘What does that mean?’_

_‘Remember this, okay?’ _Kuroko had kneeled down and patted her head, then pressed the coin he’d used into her palm. _‘The most important skill for a performer is **misdirection.’**_

Yumeno let the very same coin slip from her knuckles back into her palm; she pressed it tightly and stared at her dorm ceiling. _Misdirection, huh…_

Her mind flashed back to everyone in Momota’s dorm room the day before, back to the videogame console they’d seen that reminded them of Hope’s Peak Academy. True or not, it had given them all headaches. But the contents of the console had nothing to do with what Yumeno was concerned about.

Misdirecting others’ attention so that they wouldn’t pay attention to something else… Momota had talked about space and space shuttles and logic, about whether or not the thing they’d seen at the Death Road was a lie, and then--

_‘H-Huh? When did-- when did this get here?’_

Yumeno had noticed. Sure, she was dumb, but she wasn’t _stupid._ She’d trained long enough to have that so-called keen eye Kuroko had talked about all those years ago. It was unmistakable. Magicians and actors both performed on stages, certainly. But above all… 

Yumeno clenched her fist tighter around the coin, its weight sinking into her skin along with all the new, confusing questions that sped up her heart.

_...Cosplayers are performers too, aren’t they?_

=

"So… You know the perfect place for us to go now that the others said they’re going to rescue me?” Saihara asked incredulously, getting to the point as soon as he and Ouma had both woken up. “You haven’t been everywhere in the academy, have you? How would you know?”

Ouma stared at him, concerned. “Are you alright, Saihara-chan?” he leaned up, pushing aside Saihara’s bangs and pressing the back of his hand to Saihara’s forehead. 

Saihara reddened, stammering. “W-What are you doing?!”

“As I thought! You have a fever!” Ouma groaned. “Saihara-chan, what did I tell you about catching stupidity diseases?!” 

“Stupidity dise-- _Ouma-kun.”_

Ouma tsked knowingly, holding out a stern finger as he lectured. “You need to make sure you don’t let yourself be vulnerable to idiocy.” He beamed. “As your responsible, totally-not-a-quack doctor, I’ll prescribe you fifty whacks to the head and a killing shot to the chest!”

Saihara’s eye twitched. _Just answer the question!_

“Either way, you definitely have some sort of stupidity disease if you’re asking me an obvious question like that,” Ouma narrowed his eyes with a grin.

“Huh…?” And then Saihara remembered: Ouma could pick locks. “Oh… Right, you can… Right. That... makes sense... “

Ouma giggled.

The hangar wasn’t the best place to stay even without the others’ plan to storm it, now that Saihara really thought about it. There was nothing hiding or protecting it other than the electric barrier; if Harukawa had used her stronger weapons, or if any of the others were stronger physically, they’d have been done for. Now, however, since they were using the electrohammers, and the mastermind had somehow twisted the others’ newfound memories of Ultimate Despair or whatever into motivation to continue the game...

Saihara felt another headache coming on. “So what’s the place you have in mind?”

“The courtyard! Everyone will see us and then we’ll die a tragic lovers’ death to avoid getting killed by Harumaki-chan or something worse. Isn’t it the perfect plan?” Ouma fluttered his lashes.

_I’m beginning to regret this whole ‘working together’ thing… _“Maki isn’t gonna kill either of us,” Saihara furrowed his brows. “She’s not a bad person. She visited me last night, you know.”

“Still believing her lie, huh… It’s a shame you’re whipped for your friends, Saihara-chan,” Ouma sighed. “You would’ve made a perfect asset to my secret evil organization otherwise.”

_Even though he trusted me with the fact that he isn’t the mastermind… he doesn’t actually seem to fully trust me enough to actually let his walls down and be more honest. _It stung a bit, but Saihara wasn’t about to hold it against him. “Wherever it is… when should we leave?” he switched gears.

Ouma hummed. “Mmh… We can leave tonight. The night of the second day. By the third night, the electrohammers should finish charging, so we can’t take chances and cut it too close. On the other hand, if we go too early and they happen to spot one of us, it’ll be too obvious to them why we left.”

“What if the others see us tonight, then?” Saihara asked, furrowing his brows. “We have no way of knowing if they’re right outside or not…”

“Use your head, Saihara-chan,” Ouma snickered. “I don’t like her, but Harumaki-chan’s pretty honest to you.”

Harukawa had told him to go to Momota’s dorm room if he escaped early. Which meant… “They’re all still taking care of Kaito,” Saihara voiced slowly. “So they should all be staying around the dorm area…”

“Mhm,” Ouma looked at his nails. “Correct.”

“That’s my point though,” Saihara explained, still a bit lost. “There’s no way to avoid the courtyard, and the cafeteria and dorms are both in full view of the courtyard too. They’ll definitely see--”

“Sheesh!” Ouma cried, obnoxiously faking tears. “Don’t you have any faith in me? Obviously I’d know passages within the academy that would circumvent that!”

Saihara rubbed his temple. _For someone who acts like a petulant five year old half the time, I find it remarkable that you even know the word ‘circumvent’ to begin with, Ouma-kun. _“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. I trust you. Let’s do it.”

“Not so fast,” Ouma held up a finger. He looked over at the press, then at the exisals. “We need to create some fake murder scenario for them to find here if we want them to start up a fake trial, don’t we?”

Saihara bristled. “What…?”

“They think I’m the mastermind, so they need to assume that you’re dead and I killed you,” Ouma continued. A slight pause. “When you exercise with Harukawa-chan and Momota-chan, you do it without your gakuran on, don’t you?”

“I-- I mean, yeah, but--”

“Then you take it off,” Ouma said. “You took the press out of commission, so we can’t say you were crushed by that, but the exisals are still here, and multiple are working.”

Saihara’s blood ran cold. “Ouma-kun?”

“We put your gakuran in the cockpit of one of them, along with all the blood bags in the fridge. We close the cockpit, with your gakuran’s sleeve or the end of it sticking out somehow. Then, we pilot another exisal and have it destroy that one til it can’t open, so it looks like you got crushed into a bloody pulp by exisal--”

“Absolutely not,” Saihara interrupted fiercely. His mind flooded with images of Momota and Harukawa-- Momota’s stark, horrified face yelling as Saihara was choked; Harukawa’s relieved tears through the exisal hangar’s window, and the tight way she held onto his hand, like she was afraid of letting go-- “We are _not_ letting my friends think I’m dead.”

Ouma looked surprised for a moment; he narrowed his eyes, somewhat irritated, immediately after. “This is the only way we can force a trial for a death that never happened.”

“I refuse to hurt them like that,” Saihara knit his brows. “Making them think I was violently murdered by you-- I won’t do it. No way. They’ve been through enough just by my being kidnapped!”

“If _I’m_ the one who’s fake-killed by you, it won’t have the same impact,” Ouma retorted, teeth grit. “And they have to think someone got killed here for there to be a trial in the first place. It’s this, or nothing. Don’t be ridiculous. Anyone with half a brain would notice that you never take your arm out of your sleeve, and that there’s no way it can actually be you in there.”

“Then even more reason to not do that!” Saihara shot back. “If it’s that obvious, then what’s the point?” He held his chin up a bit higher, turning around. “I pick nothing. I… I’ll think of something else we can do. We have til night three to come up with something, right?”

Silence. Then, Ouma sighed. “I was right, you know,” he sniffed. “About the stupidity disease and all.” He sighed, twirling his hair with an irritated look on his face. “I’ll try to come up with other possibilities, but I don’t guarantee anything.” Ouma turned and sat, getting his notebook out and scratching out several pages worth of writing before turning to a blank page.

“I know I’m not being logical,” Saihara said quietly. “But there has to be another way that doesn’t rely on hurting them more than they’ve already been.”

=

Saihara was now pacing around the exisal hangar, muttering quietly to himself.

Stupid, caring Saihara. How could be so foolish as to care about people he shouldn’t technically trust? It completely flew over Ouma’s head.

_You care about DICE, too. _He waved the thoughts away, focusing on writing out a new plan.

Of course, there _was_ another idea that Ouma had prepared for, just in case something went awry and they’d have to leave the hangar… but he only wanted to use it as a last resort. If they could stay in the hangar and use the exisals, it’d be better. 

No fake murder meant that Ouma had a lot less options than before. And real murder was obviously out of the question.

(His chest felt tighter, and the nonexistent smell of blood and poison filled his lungs at thoughts of the two murders he’d committed already.)

_Focus. _

Ouma continued writing.

_We have less than a day to do this. Unless you want to waste time, Kokichi… _

“I do have a backup plan I’ve already put in place, if you want,” he finally said, putting the pencil down. “One that doesn’t involve a fake trial.”

The look on Saihara’s face said something like, _‘why didn’t you say that before?!’_. It was almost enough to make Ouma laugh.

“Well… what is it?” Saihara asked, coming closer.

_Don’t say a lie, don’t make a joke. _Ouma hummed, still debating whether to make a lie or a joke. 

“The Love Hotel…?” Saihara said, brows furrowed as he read the open section in Ouma’s open notebook.

_Oh, shit--_

“Yeah,” Ouma admitted with a quick chuckle, closing the notebook and pocketing it. “It’s a half-baked plan, and I didn’t think it through that far ahead, so there are lots of holes… but hear me out for a minute.”

=

“Shirogane, can we hang out?” 

This was a surprise. Shirogane had been planning to sneak back into her library room, just to see if the cameras around the hangar would work again.

“U-Um…” she fidgeted, blocking the entryway to her dorm room. “S-Sorry, Yumeno-san, I--”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s so lonely,” she complained, sulking. “Momota and Harumaki are together, and Kiibo told me to buzz off because his head hurt…”

“H-He said something that rude?” Shirogane blinked, shocked. _He’s supposed to be more kind than that._

Yumeno only sighed again. “I want someone to spend time with.” She looked up at Shirogane and pouted. “Pleeeeease?”

_If I say no, it’ll look weird. The plain girl isn’t supposed to have much to do… _Shirogane bit her lip. “W-Well, I guess…”

Yumeno lit up. “Yay! I can show you some magic tricks and we can chitchat and it’ll be fun!”

“Ahaha,” Shirogane smiled, letting Yumeno in. “Sounds good!”

_If she keeps me here all day, I’m in trouble._

=

Yumeno smiled, triumphant.

_Whether Shirogane has something more deep going on or not… I want to trust her. _

“It’s nice to hang out with you, Yumeno-san,” Shirogane commented as she sat on her bed. She smiled. “I’m happy to have a friend while we’re here.”

Yumeno smiled back, heart twisting and head aching as she followed Shirogane and sat on the bed beside her. _I don’t want to believe that she’s the one responsible for this, but I can’t stop thinking about it..._

Yumeno shuffled a deck of cards and then fanned them out. “Okay, Shirogane! Pick a card, any card.”

_I’ll keep an eye on her as long as possible._

_=_

It was the second night. After only one more day, they’d be able to rescue Saihara. Momota was a bit better, but still required some care, much to his apparent chagrin, so Harukawa was usually by his side. Yumeno and Shirogane had both been together in Shirogane’s room, doing who knew what.

Kiibo, naturally, took the chance to sneak out.

_I don’t like what Ouma-kun’s doing… but at the very least, before we storm the hangar, we should try to negotiate._

The exisal hangar, like the rest of the Ultimate Academy, was very likely to be soundproof. But no matter what, Kiibo decided that it would be worth a try.

He didn’t have any anti-electricity functions on himself-- because _duh._ So he wouldn’t bother with trying to disable the electric barrier at the hangar’s front. But… according to his Monopad, there should’ve been a window on the side of the hangar.

_ **You have... to try...** _

_Shut up, _Kiibo willed the voice to calm down and the pain to subside; neither worked. _Though you’re right, I do have to try..._

He reached the side window. It was smaller than he’d expected. He peered inside, dismayed to see that it only led to the bathroom, and that the door was locked shut.

“Saihara-kun!” Kiibo yelled as loud as possible. He waited. Silence. “Ouma-kun! Please open up!”

More silence. _Maybe it is soundproof after all… In that case, there’s only one thing left for me to try…_

He held out his arm, aiming it at the window and allowing the turquoise glow to come over him. 

_ **NO--** _

He glitched; the turquoise died out and his blaster rocket powered down. _Huh? What’s--_

_ **Don’t... use it…** _

Kiibo’s eye twitched; his head hurt so much that he couldn’t even physically try to reboot the laser blaster. _Why not? Iruma-san said so, didn’t she… using my power to help my friends without dying… She’s not here anymore, but--_

** _It’ll… hurt…. both of… them…_ **

His head hurt _so much. _

_ **Don’t do it… Kii...bo… wait… remember….** _

_“Fuck you,” _Kiibo let out the strangled words in English, pain overwhelming all his other senses. _“Freaking pain in the ass inner voice…”_

_ **Shut... up… you idiot… Go back… ** _

**__**_Fine,_ Kiibo thought, legs shaking as he got back up._ Fine. I’ll wait. I’ll... go back and wait for the electrohammers to charge._

His inner voice wouldn’t shut up the whole way back.

=

“We’re really not using the exisals, huh,” Ouma lamented, looking back at them one last time. 

“We’re not,” Saihara confirmed, looking at the empty exisal hangar and sighing, satisfied. “So we have to break them to make sure the mastermind or anyone else doesn’t use them.”

Ouma hummed. “‘Kay! I’ll fuck ‘em all up then!”

Saihara watched as Ouma clambered into an exisal and made quick work of it, then did the same for the others-- whatever he was doing inside, it was working, because both times the machines had powered down, and Ouma returned with small pieces of wiring and metal from the insides.

Ouma stuffed the extraneous crap from the exisals into his pockets, then caught his breath, turning to look at Saihara. “Ready?”

Saihara looked at his watch-- around one in the morning-- and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Ouma opened the door to the hangar and carefully led them out. 

The first thing Saihara saw was the bloody wreckage of the hangar’s keypad. He let out a squeak, immediately covering his mouth with his hand. _What the--_

Ouma pressed his lips into a thin line and moved on. Saihara couldn’t stop staring at it.

_Dried blood… And the metal’s been cut and stabbed at with a weapon… But if someone were killed here, there’d be a body, which there isn’t._ Saihara stiffened, petrified. _Which leaves only one person who could’ve bled onto the keypad…_

“Saihara,” Ouma murmured quietly-- seriously, since he had dropped the ‘-chan’. “Look away and hurry up. We don’t have time.”

Saihara let out a shaky breath and followed him.

Ouma motioned for Saihara to stop, holding up a hand and peeking beyond the corner. Saihara looked anyway and exchanged a cautionary glance with Ouma.

_‘Is anyone there?’ _Saihara mouthed.

Ouma shook his head. ‘_Let’s go,’ _he mouthed back.

They crept past the hangar and made their way out of the complex. Saihara didn’t really have a good sense of direction, so he was grateful for Ouma to show him the way to wherever it was they were going-- motioning for when to be careful with his footsteps or breathing, when to stop and go-- it was natural that he’d do so when they were trying to avoid being caught, but it was still considerate of him. He was actually rather leader-like in moments like these. It suited his talent.

_Not at all like the grandiose image of evil and cruelty he likes to put up for himself, _Saihara thought.

Ouma led him through thin passageways, weaving his way around areas Saihara had hardly seen before and avoiding major areas where the others would see them. After reaching the main building, they climbed up the stairs.

“Careful here,” Ouma whispered, barely audible, as they reached the third floor. 

“Why?” Saihara whispered back.

“Think about it,” Ouma whispered cryptically, grinning.

Somehow, Saihara didn’t find it totally maddening whenever Ouma led him on like this. He didn’t mind the mystery. All in the nature of a detective, he supposed. He thought for a moment.

“...Maki’s lab?” Saihara whispered. 

Ouma didn’t say anything in response. 

Saihara shook his head. _For the last time, she’s not a bad person… but he’s right. Even if Maki said that they would all be in the dorm area, she’s impulsive enough to go find weapons in her lab if given the chance to leave. If she is in there, or anywhere nearby, it’d be dangerous for us._

They continued up the stairs, past the third and fourth floor, making their way to the fifth and stalking past Shirogane’s and Saihara’s labs to a concrete wall. 

“Shit,” Ouma muttered under his breath. “It’s still here…” He bit his lip before turning to Saihara. “Do you know a place that might have acid? Or something else corrosive, or maybe some weapons that aren’t from Harukawa’s lab...”

Saihara paused. “I mean… the infirmary doesn’t have acids, just medicines in pill form… The only place there might be corrosive liquids is my lab, but those are just normal poison--”

“Then go there and bring whatever poisons you think might work,” Ouma whispered. “Really, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before…”

Saihara choked. “Huh? Why?” _Please don’t tell me you’re gonna pour acid on the walls..._

“You’ll see,” Ouma only winked in response. 

_He’s totally gonna pour acid on the walls, isn’t he..._

Still dubious, Saihara went into his own lab, making a beeline to the cabinet of poisons. As always, being in there made his stomach churn-- it still gave off the vibe of a murderer’s lab rather than a detective’s, and he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

He swallowed his thoughts and opened the cabinet.

There were lots of chemicals-- surprisingly not all poisons, now that he looked more carefully. The selection ranged from medicines for sore throats to deadly poisons like Strike-9. On the side of the door was a helpful booklet explaining where everything was and what they could all do.

_Strange. This wasn’t there before..._

Saihara picked up the booklet and flipped through, searching until he found something that caught his eye.

> Strike-53
> 
> Single-use. The most lethal of all poisons in this cabinet, Strike-53 is a corrosive poison approximately 5.88888888889 times stronger than the previously marketed Strike-9 made by Team D.R.’s chemical science team. Can dissolve concrete in approximately 5.3 seconds (and human organs twice as fast!). Great at parties!
> 
> Location: Shelf 5, Column 3.
> 
> Qty. Two 53 mL. bottles only

Terrifying. It was incredibly concerning that things like this were casually lying in his lab, but that didn’t matter now. Saihara had a mission. It wasn’t exactly a normal acid, but if it could conveniently corrode concrete in that little amount of time, it ought to work just as well, right?

He took the two bottles and carefully closed the shelf, making sure to avoid leaving hints of his arrival in the lab before returning to Ouma.

Ouma took one of the bottles in his hand and squinted at the label. “Strike-53…?”

“The instructions said it’s more corrosive than anything else in my lab,” Saihara said, out of breath. “Each bottle is single-use and can eat through concrete in about the same time it’d take me to do four or five pushups.”

Ouma hummed. “So like, ten minutes? You do look like you’d suck at pushups.”

_Says the one whose body looks about as durable as a twig._ Saihara wrinkled his nose. “About six seconds.”

Ouma’s eyes gleamed. “That_ is_ fast,” he murmured. “But it’s weird, I’ve never heard of any chemical like this before…” He tapped a finger on the bottle’s cap, humming thoughtfully, then opened it. “Eh, whatever. It should do.”

Before Saihara could tell him to wait, or put on gloves and goggles, or do _anything_ that would be considered chemically safe, Ouma poured the contents over the wall, down to the last drop.

Sure enough, the extra layer of concrete dissolved, revealing a red door behind it. It had murderous imagery, with knives and dripping blood patterns on it, a question mark above it, and a golden doorknob. Ouma screwed the lid of the bottle shut and slipped it into his pocket, exchanging the bottle with two thin metal wires.

Saihara made a noise of confusion. “Wasn’t this place supposed to be--?” he whispered.

Ouma put his finger in front of his mouth, deterring any further questions, and quietly picked the lock.

=

_I can’t believe Yumeno actually refused to leave my side for a whole day. There’s so much I could’ve missed on the cameras…!_

This was a disaster. Though the conversation was actually fun, and Yumeno beamed, pleased to be close to her and call her a friend, and even though it all gave her a massive headache, Shirogane couldn’t help but think that everything was going worse and worse the longer Saihara stayed kidnapped.

“They’re done charging,” Harukawa breathed, taking them out of the charging port and arming herself, Shirogane, and Momota. 

“We’re gonna get him back,” Momota coughed, determination blazing in his eyes. The rest of him was worn and weary, and his voice had the slightest tremor to it. 

“It’s the third night,” Kiibo narrated, as if they _didn’t already fucking know that. _Shirogane would’ve rolled her eyes had she not cared about staying in-character. “We’ll go to the exisal hangar…”

“...and bring Shuichi back,” Harukawa finished. She clenched her jaw. 

“Let’s go, sidekicks,” Momota wobbled.

Everyone looked at him with something like pity in their eyes. _Ooh, he doesn’t like that, _Shirogane thought, noticing the frustrated look on his face. _The pressure’s building up all over again… he’ll explode sooner or later._

But now, she had to focus on getting her detective back.

“L-Let’s go, everyone,” Shirogane breathed. “W-We have to-- we have to get Saihara-kun back!”

=

Harukawa didn’t expect to see the keypad in front of the hangar in such a state.

“What…” Immediately, she whirled to Momota, who was pointedly looking away.

“B-Blood…” Yumeno whimpered, clutching Shirogane’s sleeve.

“I-It looks dry, but…” Shirogane put a hand over Yumeno’s, as if to calm her down. It didn’t matter. Harukawa could see that both of them were trembling and confused.

“These are knife marks,” Harukawa observed, outlining the jagged streaks with the tip of her finger. “Kaito, where did you get a knife with a blade that jagged?”

Momota was quiet. “Doesn’ matter,” he rasped. 

“Regardless,” Kiibo said quietly, “it was a valiant attempt at saving him early. I’ll admit, I also came here yesterday.”

“We’ll get Shuichi out,” Momota changed topics, giving them all a grin and a thumbs up. 

Harukawa narrowed her eyes, more out of concern than malice. Momota looked like an utter wreck. There was hardly any purple left in his hair, his eyes were baggy, and his skin looked disastrously pale. She couldn’t speak much for herself, since she was so worried, but really, this much acting and lying couldn’t be good for him.

“The impossible can be possible,” Momota coughed. “All we gotta do is make it so. And we are, ain’t we? With these electrohammers.”

“...” Harukawa sighed. _No point in arguing with Kaito about his health when we’re this close to rescuing Shuichi. _

“Ready, Shirogane?” Momota held out his electrohammer.

“Y-Yes,” Shirogane scrambled, holding her electrohammer out. 

“On the count of three,” Harukawa whispered, “we go.” Everyone nodded. Harukawa took a deep breath. “One…”

Momota tightened his grip on his weapon. 

“Two…”

Kiibo clenched his fist; Yumeno grit her teeth.

“Three.”

(Shirogane stood unperturbed.)

They stormed in. “SHUICHI,” Momota yelled, throat hoarse. He looked around wildly. “SHUICHI--”

Yumeno lowered her weapon. “Hey, what the heck?” She narrowed her eyes, walking towards a broken exisal and kicking it. “Nobody’s even here.”

“That can’t be right,” Harukawa furrowed her brows. She rushed towards the bathroom, opening the door to check. The others also scattered, turning the room inside out in their search. But the fact of the matter was that Yumeno _was_ right. The hangar complex was completely empty save for the lot of them. 

Kiibo beeped in confusion. “But that doesn’t make sense! We all know they were here yesterday--” 

“Unless they moved,” Shirogane said blankly, eyes wide, “to another location.”

The others looked on in disbelief. Saihara and Ouma had moved?

“Why would they move, though?” Momota coughed. “Shuichi wouldn’t agree to go along with what Ouma says. He was _kidnapped. _You saw the way he was…”

“There’s that, and there’s the fact that I told Shuichi about the plan, too,” Harukawa narrowed her eyes. “And he was fine when I saw him! He should’ve been waiting and ready for our rescue--”

“What if he told Ouma about it?” Shirogane asked. 

Momota rounded on her. “And why the _fuck,”_ he practically spat, “would Shuichi _ever_ do that?” Shirogane shrank back.

“Don’t be mean to her!” Yumeno wrinkled her nose at him, holding out an arm in front of Shirogane as if to physically shield her from the words. “But…” she furrowed her brows. “Shirogane has a point. There’s always a possibility that Saihara told Ouma we were coming. Nyeh...” She turned sharply towards Kiibo. “Kiibo, you said you came here earlier, right? Did you see either of them here?”

Kiibo shook his head. “If Harukawa-san says she talked to Saihara-kun, then that must mean I came after she did, because I didn’t see anyone from that window.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Actually, I came to talk to Ouma-kun and try to convince him to stop what he was doing, but I didn’t get a response from him _or_ Saihara-kun when I tried calling out to them.”

Momota coughed. “Then they were already gone by the time Kiibo showed up. What time was that?”

Kiibo puffed up his chest in pride. “Luckily, I have an internal clock! It was approximately 11:27 PM last night when I arrived, and 11:32 PM the same night when I abandoned my efforts and left.”

“No way,” Harukawa furrowed her brows. She bit her thumbnail. “But that doesn't make any sense...! I told Shuichi that if he escapes before we came to rescue him, that he should come to Kaito’s dorm--”

“Then all that means, I suppose... is that Ouma-kun is still manipulating him,” Kiibo interrupted. “Think about it. Since Saihara-kun didn’t come to us, that means that he told Ouma-kun and _they escaped together.”_

“No,” Momota shook his head, still in denial. “No! Ouma could’ve already been planning to switch things up a bit. Shuichi might not have had anything to do with it.”

Shirogane looked unsure. “Mm… Whether it was of his own will or if Ouma-kun forced him to, I think it’s a lot more likely that Saihara-kun directly told Ouma-kun what we were planning.”

Silence: everyone else agreed with her. The truth of the matter was settled.

“Fuck,” Momota swore. “I don’t want to believe it. I _refuse_ to believe it-- my sidekick would never do something like collaborate with a mastermind of despair, even if he was being threatened.” 

Harukawa was equally upset. “Or worse… Ouma could’ve already gotten to him,” she bit out. “Shuichi could’ve come under the influence of despair…”

It was a wretched thought, but the possibility of it wasn’t far-fetched, and that was perhaps the scariest thing of all.

“Nyeh…” Yumeno shifted. “You know, now that I think about it… They’re probably in the Love Hotel.”

Stark silence. Then:

“HUH?!” Momota shrieked. “Why would they be in there?!”

“I was outside at night right after the fourth trial,” Yumeno confessed. “I… I couldn’t go to sleep after even more of our friends died... But while I was out, I saw Ouma sneaking into the Love Hotel and secretly putting stuff in there-- it was dark, but the silhouette looked like a bag full of food or other supplies.”

“I think I get it,” Harukawa interrupted shortly. “He kept supplies in there, knowing he’d be staying in there for a long time, waiting it out. And since it’s soundproof, no matter what he does to Shuichi, we wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.” 

Momota grit his teeth. “That mother_fucker--”_

“How despicable…” Kiibo said. “But I think you’re right, Yumeno-san. This is definitely a sure hint that that’s where Ouma-kun intended to keep Saihara-kun.”

“H-He’s aligned with despair,” Yumeno confirmed, wincing. “With what we know about him now, it’s safe to say that _he_ started this whole thing. We need to rescue Saihara from him!”

Shirogane whimpered. “B-But he’s the mastermind-- should we really try to-- try to, you know, um-- charge right into the Love Hotel? What if-- what if he’s bluffing? Or, or he plans t-to ambush us somehow--”

“We were already prepared enough to storm the hangar, weren’t we?” Kiibo placed a gentle hand on her arm. He pumped a fist. “We can do it again. We _will_ do it again.”

“Not to mention,” Harukawa added, “if he had the foresight to sneak out and secretly put supplies in the room when he thought everyone was asleep, that probably _is_ where he’s hiding.”

Everyone else nodded in affirmation. Shirogane nodded with them, wiping her eyes. “O-Okay…”

“I’ve been to the Love Hotel before,” Kiibo finally said. “Once, to see Iruma-san again…” he ignored the others’ looks and continued speaking. “The Love Hotel’s mechanics say that everyone can go in there for non-romantic purposes once. If Ouma-kun used his own to put the supplies in, then it’s highly likely he forced Saihara-kun to use his to sneak them back in there.”

“Then we can use our own to get in, right?” Yumeno asked.

Kiibo shook his head. “Once someone’s in, it’s locked. You can’t go in unless the room is empty.”

“Then we’ll use weapons from my lab,” Harukawa said darkly. 

“We’ll stick together, too,” Momota growled. “Listen up! Nobody here is gonna be alone. We’ll go everywhere together, stay everywhere together, and sleep in shifts, all in the same place. If we gotta go somewhere else, we go in pairs or threes. With Ouma roaming around, nobody’s safe.”

“H-Huh?” Shirogane’s eyes were wide.

“He’s right,” Harukawa said, then winced. “The idea’s better than what we’re doing now,” she amended. “If we all stick together from here on out, there’s no way Ouma can hurt us all as the mastermind.”

“Let’s do it,” Kiibo agreed. “Working together is the only thing that can protect us from Ouma-kun and his despair!”

Yumeno nodded beside them. “The rest of this game, we’ll all stay in each other’s sights!” She looked at Shirogane. “Right?”

Beads of sweat dragged across Shirogane’s forehead. “Ah… R-Right…”

“Alright!” Momota yelled, puffing up his chest and then immediately coughing. “Time to make our way to the Love Hotel and save Shuichi! All of us, Together! We’re leaving-- nobody-- behind--!”

=

Momota then dissolved into a pathetic coughing fit, leaving droplets of blood sprayed on the floor. Harukawa knelt beside Momota, helping him up. 

Shirogane bit the inside of her cheek, eyes still a bit damp from fake crying. _Dammit, dammit, dammit. _This stupid fucking clown mental patient and wannabe Detective Conan over here were both completely ruining her plans.

Ouma put the supplies in the Love Hotel purely as a diversion. It was plain fact: he was staring straight at the cameras as he did it, wearing an impish grin as he placed a quieting finger to his lips, even going so far as to flip her off. But if she were to present that one irrefutable piece of evidence to the others, it would reveal herself as the mastermind-- they had all seen her go to sleep, and if Yumeno was truly outside to witness Ouma, then she would just bring up how she hadn’t seen Shirogane physically outside along with her--

_UGH!_

And even worse! These absolute _morons_ were now refusing to let anyone out of each other’s sights. Momota especially so, trying to keep everyone together as if he were Akamatsu. It made everything too much harder. 

How was she supposed to leave them and work on an alternate plan in the secret library room? How was she supposed to search for where Ouma and Saihara were really hiding when the others were so tense and close that they wouldn’t let poor little trembling, mentally addled Shirogane-san out of their sights?

Damn infuriating.

“The Love Hotel shouldn’t have any sort of electronic barriers, so we can ditch the electrohammers for now,” Harukawa cleared her throat. “I have plenty of weapons in my lab that we can use to storm the place. There’s no reason those shouldn’t be able to break into a seedy building like that.”

“Y-You say it’s seedy, but it’s actually pretty strongly guarded,” Shirogane hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t quite think we should--”

“No way,” Momota coughed. “We are _not _abandoning Shuichi.” 

With no further way to argue her position, and nobody who was willing to hear out Shirogane’s excuses, the five of them made their way to Harukawa’s lab. Luckily for them, Harukawa kindly guided them through the aisles and walls of guns, bombs, and other traps. 

They took what they needed and headed to the Love Hotel. 

“Bombs first,” Harukawa said. “For those of you that have grenades, grenade pins aren’t as easy to remove as movies make it look, so keep your grip firm and pull really, really hard.”

_We’re gonna end up wasting so much time doing this, _Shirogane thought dizzily._ I have to get out of here and find out where they really are…! _Multiple explosions shook the ground. When the smoke cleared at last, the Love Hotel was still standing like nothing had even happened. 

Momota ran up and began violently banging on the door. “OUMA,” he yelled indignantly, “GET OUT HERE, MOTHERF--”

“Calm down,” Harukawa yanked Momota back with ease. He turned quiet. Harukawa sighed. “Look, Kaito... I’m just as upset and angry as you are. Shuichi’s my best friend too, okay?” She furrowed her brows. “But we can’t afford to waste our time yelling to him when the room is soundproof and when he won’t care anyway.”

“We have to get Shuichi back,” Momota croaked, frustrated tears breaching his eyes. “It was my fault he was even kidnapped to begin with.”

“That was Ouma-kun’s fault, not yours,” Kiibo interrupted shortly. He flushed a bit. “Sorry for intruding, I just-- don’t blame yourself, Momota-kun. Nothing at this academy is black and white, least of all the events related to this killing game.”

“U-Um!” Shirogane spoke up, straining herself over the noise of the others’ chatter. “Y-Y’know,” she laughed awkwardly, “I bet if Monokuma were still here, he’d yell something like ‘_Hey you kids! Quit destroying school property!’_ Right?”

Yumeno was the only one who paid any heed to her; even so, she gave Shirogane an odd look. “Uh,” she winced, “Sure? Why do you care what he’d say? That bitch is dead.” She turned around, looking expectantly at Shirogane from the corner of her eye. “Come on, Shirogane,” Yumeno said quietly. “We need to plan the next attack.”

_Dammit!_

Shirogane went with her towards the others.

“--and if explosions of the highest caliber won’t break the Love Hotel doors open, then we have no other choice but to use some sort of old-fashioned lockpick or battering ram,” Harukawa finished explaining. “Since Ouma’s the only bastard here who actually knows how to pick locks better than me, and I don’t have any of the tools on me right now…” Ever methodical and to the point, Harukawa took out the biggest looking manual battering ram Shirogane had ever seen from a duffel bag. “Heave ho, guys.”

“U-Um!” Shirogane spoke up. _Now’s my only chance…! _“Hey, I just thought of something… They’re going to run out of supplies eventually, right? In case we end up not being able to enter the Love Hotel, I’ll guard the kitchen. Sooner or later, they’ll run out of food and supplies, and they’ll sneak back to the kitchen to get more, so I can catch them there.”

A beat.

“I mean,” Momota coughed. “It’s definitely logical, but Yumeno said she saw Ouma pile a ton ‘a supplies in there only a few nights ago.”

“Exactly,” Harukawa said. “And since they only came in here yesterday night or two nights ago at the earliest, they won’t run out that quickly. You don’t need to go now; it’d be better if we had all the strength possible here.”

“What if--” Shirogane stammered, “What if it’s all just a diversion then, or like a fake place to distract us from where they actually could’ve went ?” She frantically racked her brain for a plausible reason to think that. “I just, I’m so sorry,” she pretended to tear up, “I’m s-so nervous-- um, that is-- a-about all this, and, and-- and Ouma-kun’s such a liar that I feel all j-jittery and super, you know, anxious about all the ways this could p-possibly go wrong, a-and it’s nighttime and I’m a little s-scared of the dark and-- I’m so sorry, everyone, I--”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kiibo put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. The two of us can go check it together with my flashlight function to put you at ease while the others work on bringing this place down. Is that okay?” he smiled.

_No, it fucking isn’t! I need to get AWAY from you all to do this ALONE!_

Shirogane nodded, hiccupping as pitifully as she could muster.

Kiibo put a gentlemanly arm around her shoulder, leading her to the main building. “Then let’s go. I’m weak for a robot, and I’m sure that as a famous cosplayer you don’t want to damage your body with heavy lifting or anything, so the other three can handle it themselves…”

_A robot I created is comforting me within the TV show script that I also created. My dignity is down the drain. _

So the two of them went to the kitchen, and then went up the stairs past every room. By that point, Shirogane’s brain had essentially tuned out everything that was happening-- Kiibo’s genuine smiles of goodwill and triumphant declarations of _‘See, nobody’s here at all! There’s no traces of activity here. It’s alright!’_ meant utterly nothing now.

No going to the mastermind room to hide evidence and formulate a new plan. No searching secret areas of the academy that Ouma may have discovered. No going to the flashback light classroom to create another light, or a console to trick the others and buy her time. No attacking Kiibo and ditching him; she couldn’t reveal to the audience’s direct link who the mastermind was right now or wreck their only camera, or else it’d ruin the viewing experience.

Stupid, stupid boys, ruining her plans.

(Shirogane supposed that was her only solace-- the fact that none of the three were girls, and would not ever have reason to find her secret passageway in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor…)

“I think we should go back now,” Kiibo said, worriedly looking outside. He clutched his head. “Ugh…”

_I think I should’ve written you to be less of a busybody, but life sucks that way, doesn’t it. _

“We don’t want this to take too long,” Kiibo sighed. “We can’t let Saihara-kun suffer more than he already has at this point.”

Wordlessly, Shirogane nodded, and followed him back outside. 

=

Completely contrary to all of Momota’s expectations, the battering ram was _working. _By the time Kiibo and Shirogane came back, they were almost done with the door. 

_In what universe does a shitty battering ram work better than five high power bombs and grenades? _he wondered. _Come ta think of it, there’s a lotta stuff here that defies all bounds of logic and physics... _

“COME HELP,” Yumeno called to them. “WE’RE-- ALMOST THERE--!” 

The two of them ran to catch up with the others, and with the power of their friendship and hope for Saihara’s safety, they busted down the door and rescued him, it was wonderful and emotional and deep--

\--is what Momota would’ve liked to say, but reality was more anticlimactic.

The door burst open, and the five of them (well, four-- Shirogane was probably too anxious to walk in, so she continued standing right outside the door) stormed the place, yelling for Saihara, for Ouma, for _anything._

It was totally barren.

The bed was neatly made. All the furniture was pristine, like nobody had ever even been in the room. There was a small pile of snacks and junk near the door, but nothing else. There was no dramatic reunion. Just like with the hangar complex, Saihara and Ouma were utterly nowhere to be found.

“We... missed them…?” Yumeno asked. Momota punched the broken door in frustration, coughing.

Harukawa marched towards the bed.

“Haru...maki...?” Momota croaked, blinking.

“There’s a sticky note there,” Kiibo realized. “On the wall behind the bed, I mean.”

Harukawa swiped the note off the wall. Whatever was written on it, it must not have been good, because Harukawa looked positively murderous. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” she growled, crushing the note in her palm and letting it drop to the floor. 

That was alarming. Momota moved towards her. “Harumaki?”

She glared at him. “We didn’t miss them at all. Shirogane was right-- they were never here to begin with. Let’s go.” She stalked out. 

“Huh?” Kiibo whirled around. “Harukawa-san, what did it say?” 

She was already gone. 

At this point, Shirogane had come inside. “Um… what_ does_ it say?” she gestured towards the crumpled note. 

Yumeno shrugged. “Let’s see, then we’ll join with Harukawa again.” She gingerly picked up the sticky note. Shirogane, Kiibo, and Momota huddled around her as she unfolded it and smoothed it out, revealing a single message scrawled in crude handwriting: 

_ **Idiots ♡** _

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO PRANKD
> 
> I like to headcanon that Kiibo's personality when speaking Japanese is a lot more polite than his personality when speaking English. Mostly because of the culture difference dskfjdskl
> 
> Things are getting chaotic and I'm having a blast. See you guys next week!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	43. 5-8. The Ultimate Survivor's Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monophanie wholeheartedly believes she can live forever.
> 
> Amami's sailing experience comes in handy.
> 
> Five students are left in the shadows of a lie; the other two find the light of the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Some of) the many answers you've all been waiting for since the beginning, now that we're finally close to the end.
> 
> I'm... really anxious about this chapter, and everyone's reception of it. With all major plot shifting chapters, I tend to feel this way, mostly because of my own insecurities... worrying if people will like whatever twist is there, or if they saw it coming and think it's boring, or they think something else is wrong with my writing... but this is what I've put my heart into. It's the story I want to write, and every now and then I need to reassure myself to write for myself above all.
> 
> On with the chapter!
> 
> (Y'all aren't ready for this one, I don't think.)

“It’s a bit too late in the experiment for there to be some sort of Mono-theater, isn’t it?” Monophanie wondered aloud. She shrugged. “Not that it matters either way. Daddy’s dead, so it can’t be a Monokuma Theater. Monophanie Theater doesn’t have the same ring to it.” 

She smiled wryly. “Upupu… Besides, nobody’s technically watching any of this. And if we really wanna go galaxy brain, I’m technically not even here anyway!

“They mentioned it earlier, didn’t they? Schrodinger’s cat?” Monophanie giggled. “Better change that to Schrodinger’s bear.”

Omnipresent, she watched the remaining students. “We can win,” Monophanie whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. “We _should_ win. Her **despair **is most powerful here, so the likelihood of beating the other participants’ **hope**… is high.”

(Monophanie would cling to her life force as long as possible.)

“But even if I lose again… even if my hypothesis fails and _he_ beats me again... I had my fun. They’re all getting closer to the end of this **lie**,” Monophanie grinned. “Upupu… All they need is for their little mastermind to realize the **truth**.”

Not that Monophanie actually believed that would happen anytime soon. But hey! It was only a hypothesis. Being proved wrong was half of the greatest despair she could experience. She giggled. “That’s just how **reality** is… You can delude yourself into thinking this is **fiction** all you want… a manufactured nightmare, nothing more than a show…”

She morphed, a shadow of herself, all manic giggles and manicured nails and dyed hair. Her eyes were obscured, but it didn’t matter-- she was eternal, and everyone knew her face, down to the bright gray-blue color contacts that matched her sister’s irises, even if it wasn’t looking right at them. “...But you can never forget. This is my experiment, first and foremost.”

She knew she was famous. She knew she was an unwanted guest, the last person any of these poor kids would ever want to see again. She grinned, cruel and cold, and tapped methodical, slender fingers against the table in front of her.

The smell of mint and perfume grew stronger around her, and she felt smug with the knowledge that in here, she was practically invincible.

_“I’ll keep you all in this **dream** as long as possible.”_

=

Yumeno felt a little guilty for wasting everyone’s time with the Love Hotel, but decided that it was better overall that they’d bothered trying. 

All they could do now was sleep as a group like they’d agreed and try again the next morning. They’d also decided upon their new base: outside the cafeteria. It was close to the stairs to the upper floors; if Ouma and Saihara were hiding in the main building, they’d be able to catch them if they ever came down. The gym, bathrooms, and dorms were also not too far, so it was a pretty decent location.

The only thing bugging Yumeno now was Shirogane.

She’d always been an awkward, stammering, jittery mess, but Yumeno couldn’t stop thinking about how well that lesson on misdirection fit Shirogane. And Shirogane did seem awfully anxious about this scenario, like she wanted to go work alone... 

“Harumaki,” Yumeno murmured, tugging on Harukawa’s sleeve as they all walked together. Harukawa let out a small noise of acknowledgement. Yumeno continued. “If something happens to me, look in my left pocket and check the color of the scarf.”

Harukawa blinked. “What--”

“Nod if you understand, and don’t tell anyone else,” Yumeno breathed. “I… This is just in case.”

Harukawa stared, then nodded. Yumeno sighed in relief, loosening her grip on the dark blue scarf in her pocket. 

_Momota is too sick, Kiibo’s head hurts too much, and I trust Harumaki enough. None of those three will try to kill anyone. At least, Harumaki probably won’t… Not me, at least… _Yumeno’s gaze wandered to Shirogane, who was walking beside Kiibo and asking after his head. _Not counting Ouma and Saihara, who are too confusing to understand… Shirogane’s the only wild card here._

“W-Who’ll stay up for night watch?” Shirogane asked. 

Momota coughed. “I’ll do it. A hero’s gotta… stay up an’…” He heaved a breath, choking on phlegm, and grinned despite the blood in his mouth. “...help ‘is sidekicks.”

He really did look like death. It was almost sad, seeing how the strong, purple-haired astronaut had been reduced to a brown-haired, ill looking boy.

(But Yumeno could sort of tell that it bothered Momota most of all.)

“My head hurts too much for me to even try and sleep,” Kiibo scoffed, holding his head. “I’ll do it. As a robot, I don’t technically need sleep either way, so I’ll be a constant guard.”

“I’ll stay up too,” Harukawa said, looking at Yumeno out of the corner of her eye. “I have the training for it.”

“S-So Yumeno-san and I can sleep?” Shirogane blinked. She smiled. “G-Good… Sorry, but I’m a little…” she yawned and stretched. “Tired…”

Weirdly enough, it began smelling like mint and perfume around the same time Shirogane spoke. Shirogane froze all of a sudden, deathly still; the others sniffed and covered their mouths and noses. It was the same smell that Yumeno had smelled back when she and Shirogane had investigated Momota’s lab for the first time-- a disgusting, fake smell.

Familiar, but unsettling…

_ I’ll keep you all in this dream as long as possible. _

At this, everyone’s heads shot around, spooked and searching for the source. 

“Nyeh…” Yumeno shivered. “What was that…?”

“Whoever you are, come out and face us,” Harukawa growled, already wielding a pocket knife. “Do you wanna die?!”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that voice,” Kiibo observed nonchalantly, though his eyes still darted about warily and his hand was still covering his nose from the smell. “I wonder who it is?”

_Nyeh… Now that I think about it, why does Kiibo have to cover his nose even though he’s a robot?_

Momota coughed again, though this time around he clearly looked more unnerved. “Let’s… ignore whatever or whoever it is. Talkin’ suspicious shit about dreams… The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so. That’s all you gotta know about dreams, alright?” He beamed. “Y’all gotta sleep if we wanna search or do anythin’ tomorrow, Shirogane, Yumeno.”

“If you say so,” Shirogane finally whispered, eyes still wide.

Harukawa at last sheathed her pocket knife, sighing. “We’ll wake you up soon. Rest for now.”

Yumeno yawned at that, then blinked in surprise at herself; she was more tired than she’d thought. “Thanks, you guys,” she finally said, genuinely grateful as she lay down on the cold, hard floor and rested her head on her hat. “Goodnight.”

=

_This is terrible! _

Even when awake, Yumeno would be there to hold Shirogane back from going to the mastermind room. And Kiibo too, which was _worse._

_ <strike>And she’s here, she’s here, she’s experimenting--</strike> _

<strike> _She’s closer--!_ </strike>

What was Shirogane thinking? She mentally scoffed at her own cowardice. _It’s all fictional anyway._

That aside, in terms of how the search for Ouma and Saihara was going, Shirogane was <strike>relieved</strike> frustrated. But with no other way of escape, she resigned herself to sleep.

=

Momota felt, for lack of other words, pathetic.

He’d tried and failed to hide his illness. He’d tried and failed to save Saihara twice. Once with the knife, and the second time hardly an hour ago when they stormed the hangar. He was being pitied; he could see it, he could_ feel _everyone’s gazes, locked onto him and his weakness with unwanted, syrupy sympathy--

Momota coughed, and let the blood settle on his skin like dirt.

Dirt… it made him think of his grandparents. What were they doing? Definitely, they must’ve been worried about him. 

(He could only pray that they hadn’t succumbed to illness, or something worse--)

No. No, they’d be fine. They were his grandparents! They’d worked hard all their lives, raising him after his parents had died in that plane crash. They still should’ve had their farmland, and their small, quiet countryside house. They were country hicks, but they had done a lot for him. And besides, he’d been gone before! All that time he spent in higher end schools in the city and in foreign countries, in JAXA and NASA-- they’d lived without him before.

Momota wasn’t worried. He wasn’t scared or weak.

He trembled.

(He was supposed to be _special.)_

Momota looked up, done with staring off into nowhere. _Even if I freak out, there’s no reason any ‘a them gotta know about it._ He looked to his right. Kiibo was some short distance away, his robotic body humming monotonously like a computer operating on overdrive. His jaw was clenched. 

Momota then looked to his left to see Harukawa rifling through Yumeno’s jacket pocket.

“?! Harumaki?!” Momota croaked; Harukawa whipped around, glaring at him with a finger over her mouth. She returned to her pickpocketing.

=

Momota inched closer despite her nonverbal warning; Harukawa stifled a sigh. _Of course he’d want to know…_

Yumeno and Shirogane were asleep; their breathing was just deep enough. Harukawa specialized in short-distance assassination, so she was an expert at knowing exactly when people were at their weakest. ...Not that she’d do anything to Yumeno or Shirogane. 

Gingerly, she took out the handkerchief from Yumeno’s pocket. She squinted, trying to determine what color it was in the darkness. _Blue…? Black-ish? Dark blueish-gray? What is that supposed to mean…_

“Harumaki,” Momota whispered again, and Harukawa shoved the cloth back into Yumeno’s pocket with a sigh. 

“It’s nothing,” she said. Her expression soured. “Let’s just stay awake.”

Momota paused. Then, he shrugged.

_He’s probably thinking that it’s okay for me to keep secrets since he did too, huh… _Harukawa honestly found it a bit annoying, but it wasn’t the worst thing that was happening to her at the moment. There were far more pressing matters at hand, all of which were related to how Ouma was a Remnant of Despair who could be torturing Saihara or turning him to Despair or any number of terrible things.

It was frustrating. She wanted to stab something, shoot something, _do something. _And Harukawa knew that Momota felt the same, though probably with less violence.

She _knew_ Momota. She found it weird, how in the beginning he’d taken care of her and gotten her to open up, and now the roles were completely reversed, with Harukawa not having a single goddamn clue how to make it work. _Even if I could fake being a child caregiver… it’s completely different when it comes to Kaito._

She’d taken care of him a while. They’d talked here and there, and it was obvious enough to Harukawa that Momota did care about her just as much-- but he was still so damn closed off when it came to his own insecurities. She understood, but… she wished it weren’t so hard. Half of it, she guessed, was her own inability to truly empathize with people as well as Momota could.

And then there was Yumeno, being all cryptic with that random scarf message; Shirogane, being a stuttering scared crybaby; Kiibo, being a robotic edgelord gritting his teeth and complaining of pain. All four of them were her friends, but they were so _annoying _unchecked, even if Harukawa had sympathy for them. 

She tensed, swallowing her spit. _Our own comfort isn’t important. There are more serious things we need to be doing. We have to save Shuichi…!_

(But even Harukawa knew that dreaming for someone who was probably dead wouldn’t bring them back to life.)

Harukawa let out a long-suffering sigh and watched, keeping her eyes peeled and trained on the stairs in case anyone came down from the upper floors. _As much as I’d like to sneak off and get weapons or try to find where Ouma’s hiding with Shuichi, there’s no telling what could happen if I leave… I’m the strongest one here, and I’m the only real bodyguard these guys have._

“Pretty logical,” Momota whispered with a grin on his lips, and Harukawa nearly _shanked him _with her fingernails. He chuckled, then coughed. “Careful ‘ere, don’ stab me.”

_I was talking out loud?_ Harukawa shook her head. “It’s natural to want to protect my friends.” She sank lower against the wall, closing her eyes. “You were the one who taught me that to begin with.”

Momota smiled, keeping his eyes on the side where she wasn’t watching. “Either way… Thanks, Harumaki. It means a lot.”

“Mm.” Harukawa turned the other way. “Tomorrow, we’ll search again.”

Momota paused. Then, he spoke: “Yeah. We will. And this time, we’ll find ‘im.”

(It was just a short sentence, a simple affirmation, and yet, Harukawa’s heart swelled with hope.)

=

(Let’s rewind a day, shall we?)

=

Red, red, red.

The room was red and among one of the creepiest places Saihara had seen within the academy, save for the fourth floor and his own lab.

(And the Death Road, now that he thought about it-- that hallway, with all its familiar medieval traps and murder machinations, was eerie on an entirely different level.)

As they entered the room, the concrete wall re-formed behind them, effectively sealing them inside. Saihara’s eyes bulged; Ouma only let out a breath. “Good thing you brought both bottles of Strike-53, then,” he murmured. Then, louder: “Welcome, Saihara-chan... to Amami Rantaro’s Ultimate Lab.”

Haunting picture frames-- styled like funeral portraits-- floated in the air and on the walls in all odd angles, held up by stark threads of string. Some luxurious looking sofas and a large round table were set in the middle, with an open laptop set on it and oddly mismatching chairs adorning the sides. There were roses and question marks everywhere, stylized with the same red and black theme, occasionally lined with gold. Everything was in disarray. 

It was beautiful, in a terrifying kind of way.

Saihara carefully stepped in, taking in every bit of information he could. “Twenty-two portraits,” he counted, trying to see them all. “Twelve hanging, ten on the walls… and none of the other decor really matches. It’s almost as if the room was intentionally made to obscure his real talent…” he trailed off. 

Ouma sighed.

“Ouma-kun, what was the rest of your plan?” Saihara finally turned to him and asked. “You said we’d trick them into believing we were in the Love Hotel to buy time, but now what? We’re here.”

“...”

“Not to mention,” Saihara muttered, a pensive finger over his mouth, “since the concrete wall formed again, they won’t know that this lab is open or that we’re here…”

“That was it,” Ouma chuckled, annoyed. “I told you it was half-baked, didn’t I? I didn’t think of what to do after that.”

Silence. Then, Saihara shrieked. “What?! What do you mean, you don’t have a plan?!”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just agreed to get fake-murdered, Saihara-chan!” Ouma wailed, crying crocodile tears. “Now we’re stuck here with absolutely nothing!”

Saihara sighed, then groaned, burying his face in his hands. He looked at his watch; it was late into the nighttime period. The others would break into the hangar in around 24 hours or so. “We should sleep,” he finally said. “Once we’re rested up, we can explore this place.”

“Just letting you know,” Ouma walked over to a closet door and opened it, revealing stacks upon stacks of canned food and bottled water, with a survival kit tucked behind the door. “There are rations in here, so we won’t have to leave anytime soon. We can plan in here for the next few days.”

Saihara frowned. “Few days? This much food will last way longer than that.” _Why are there survivor rations in Amami-kun’s ultimate lab…? Is it related to his talent? And why does Ouma-kun seem to already know about it? Has he been here before?_

Ouma tsked. “The mastermind’s out ‘n about. I give it three or four days _max_ before they somehow get one of the people outside to murder someone else.”

Saihara took in the statement, then sighed. “Okay… then we have two or three days max to come up with a plan. But first, we should probably sleep.” Ouma shrugged; he must’ve been tired if he was accepting Saihara’s suggestion without any retorts. 

There were two couches in one area of the lab; Saihara took the bigger one as Ouma clambered onto the smaller one, and then the two of them curled into themselves to sleep.

“...Hey, Saihara.”

Saihara’s eyes opened. “Mmh?”

A pause; Ouma was thinking. “Why do you hate lies so much?”

Saihara shifted, rolling onto his other side to look at Ouma. “What do you mean?”

Ouma stayed still. “You didn’t want to lie to your friends by creating a fake death, even though it was the best way to force a trial to end the game. Why?”

“That’s…” Saihara hesitated. “I… I prefer being honest. By uncovering the truth, we can end the game. Lying and acting… it just hurts people.”

Ouma let out something like a scoff. 

“What?” Saihara knit his brows, suddenly self-conscious. 

“I was thinking of actually writing your mother a letter about how stupid you are. I had no idea my beloved was such a nincompoop-ish hypocrite.” Ouma yawned, burrowing himself further into the couch. “Sweet dreams, Saihara-chan.”

“Huh--” At that, Saihara actually sat up, annoyed. “Ouma-kun!”

Fake snoring.

“Ouma-kun?”

_Obnoxiously _fake snoring.

Saihara sighed, lying back down. _Lying and acting, huh… You can’t reach the truth with a lie. That’s just paradoxical..._

He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

_...isn’t it?_

=

“--ma-kun…”

_Someone’s whispering… what a rude awakening, I swear..._

“Ouma-kun.”

_Hm? Wait, is that Saihara’s voice…? _

Ouma’s eyes fluttered open, and immediately, he was face-to-face with a nosy detective centimeters away from him.

_Holy shi--_

“Aww, good morning, Saihara-chan,” Ouma said sweetly, slowly sliding out from under Saihara and then bouncing upright on his toes. _Fuck, that was bad for my heart… guess that’s what I get for the Insect Meet and Greet. _His chest pulsed, a bit hurt at the memory-- they’d all been so much more _carefree_ all those weeks ago, even if they’d still been trapped... Ouma giggled. “Sorry, but if you want a morning kiss from me you need to give me your bank account information and a briefcase full of cash.”

“Kiss?!” Saihara choked out, immediately backing up and covering his reddening face with his arm. “T-That’s not--” 

“Oooh, Saihara-chan, are you a kiss virgin?!” Ouma gasped. “That’s so pure! Aww, you’re even cuter to me now!”

“Gh…” Saihara sighed, knitting his brows. “I couldn’t sleep for a while because of your question last night,” he changed the subject _(adorably)._ He grimaced, face souring. “And for the record, it’s actually _evening. _We both slept for almost twenty-four hours.”

“Hey, by the way, you have no comment on how I’m selling myself?!” Ouma whined. “Rude, I thought you’d sweep me off my feet!”

The red that dusted Saihara’s cheeks was _delicious._ “Can you focus, please? The others should be breaking into the hangar in a few hours. It’s been a whole day and we still don’t have a plan.” 

_I’m reeeeally not in the mood to debate truth and lies with him right now, though… _Ouma hummed, stretching. “This place is soundproof and the concrete wall rebuilt itself, so don’t sweat it.”

“...” Saihara must’ve realized that Ouma was evading the question on purpose, because he dropped it. “Let’s explore the lab, then. Now that we’re both awake…”

So they looked. The portraits gave Ouma a headache just the same as the one they’d given all those weeks ago when he first snuck in here. Saihara looked equally confused, eyes wide and murmuring to himself as he moved on.

“It’s weird,” Saihara finally breathed. “There are twelve portraits of twelve different girls floating from the walls, and then ten portraits of a mix of people fixed to the walls… The hanging portraits aren’t familiar to me at all, but the ones on the walls all give me headaches...”

“...” The ten people had to be the people who died in the killing game Amami was in previously. Ouma had deduced that much, and clearly all of the others must know those people if Saihara also got headaches from looking at them. And the twelve that hung from the ceiling were his twelve younger sisters…

Ouma was quiet, tracing the edge of the couch as Saihara walked around muttering to himself. Saihara looked up every now and then, likely thinking that it was odd how quiet Ouma was being.

_A lab as sad as this, as claustrophobic and unbreathable as this… Rantaro was scared of it. He didn’t like the reminder. Even I’d be scared of a closed space like this. Rantaro’s been claustrophobic since he was a kid though, so…_

Ouma froze, the smell of antiseptic growing a bit stronger with the conscious realization. _Since he was a kid…? Did I know that from before this killing game?_

“...? A safe?” Saihara pondered aloud. At this, Ouma snapped his head up. 

“Whoa, there, Saihara-chan, allow me,” Ouma smiled. “I get that you’re a detective, but you gotta leave some mysteries for the rest of us to solve, ‘kay?”

Saihara blinked. “Okay?” But Ouma had already brushed past him, making his way to the safe.

_‘Don’t forget your birthday, yeah? Or your name.’_

Ouma swallowed the bile threatening to rise in his throat. It was among the last things Amami had ever said to him, and now, finally,_ finally,_ he’d be able to use it.

“Should’ve picked someone more reliable than me, moron,” Ouma murmured softly under his breath as he turned the dials. “Horse A,” he announced loudly, “and Gemini B.”

The vault swung open.

=

And all that was inside it was a USB shaped like Monokuma.

Saihara elected to ask Ouma later how he knew the safe’s password and gingerly picked it up, staring at it. Maybe it’d transform into a chicken or something. Or some sort of bomb. At the very least, if it was shaped like Monokuma, it wasn’t exactly the kind of resource he’d most want to use.

Ouma seemed to share the same sentiments, if the irritated grimace on his face wasn’t a lie. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, eye twitching. “Rantaro’s already dead, but I’m gonna kill him...”

Saihara turned, glancing at the laptop on the table. “We better look at the contents before we judge..”

“Awfully convenient that the laptop was left out there on the table, though,” Ouma twirled his hair, sniffing disdainfully.

Saihara sighed. “I don’t trust the bears either, but this is the only lead we have.” The answer to his earlier question clicked in his head. “Besides, if you know the password that Amami-kun set in his own lab, then that means he told you to remember it, right? He probably put the laptop out himself so that you’d be able to watch without having to waste time looking for it. It might not have been from Monokuma or the mastermind.”

Ouma blinked at him. “Ah...”

Saihara let out a breath. He walked over to the laptop, powering it on, uncapping the USB, and finally plugging it in. “Here we go…”

The screen lit up. There was nothing on the laptop; no internet browsers or Microsoft applications or anything. The only thing there was a singular file.

001.mov

Saihara scrolled the mouse towards the icon and clicked it.

Amami’s face came on the screen almost immediately, faint blue light washing over his face and highlighting his features. The room he was in was dark and had minimal lighting otherwise, but even so, the fear on his face was immediately noticeable.

“Hey, future me,” he croaked, blinking rapidly-- likely to force back the tears that were obviously leaking from his eyes. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that your memories are gone by now.”

It was unlike Saihara had ever seen. The Amami he remembered was calm-- a little bit off in the head maybe, and mysterious, and vaguely crazy-looking, but calm. He acted more mature. 

But… this Amami looked scared and sad.

(He looked like a child.)

“Man, what the hell am I even supposed to do in a situation like this?” Amami’s lower lip trembled, a wobbly smile forcing itself across his face. His eyes were still blinking irregularly. “I don’t want to do this again…” A tear streamed down. He sighed.

A garbled noise came from off-screen; Amami flinched at it, then sighed again. “First off… this isn’t your first killing game. Because you survived the first one, Monokuma gave you the title of the Ultimate Survivor, and also gave you a special Monopad with a map of the whole place. Before that, you were the Ultimate Ad--”

A loud beep covered up what Amami was about to say next; he looked startled. “Not allowed to talk about it out loud, huh… okay…” He took in a deep breath and gazed right into the camera’s lens, blinking. “Understand this, then. You are a target. You know too much-- you_ knew_ too much. People will try to kill you, or frame you…” His eyes looked bloodshot and almost crazed, but his blinking continued. He sniffled. “In killing games, everyone is going to want you dead. For memories, for promises of their old lives… people are willing to do _anything. _You have information. You’ve seen it all!_” _he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Inside the killing game or out, you’ve seen death all the time. Rooms covered wall-to-wall in red, hallways and weapons with blood everywhere, stabbing, stoning, poisoning, suicide, electrocution, throat-slitting, burning, crushing-- _you’ve seen all of it. _And that information and experience makes you a target to those who don’t have it.”

Hearing these words coming out of his mouth was… not so much terrifying as it was sad. 

Saihara’s heart clenched. His throat was dry. _Is that why he always forced himself to be alone?_

“But…” Amami sighed, voice shaky. “Don’t hold it against them, okay? I know things are gonna be confusing and frightening without your memories, but the others can’t remember the past. Not... the way I do…” He choked on a sob. “There will be answers in the place where the killing game occurs. There will be certain people, like…” he cursed under his breath. “Fuck, I can’t say the name... whatever. You’ll be able to tell. There will be certain people who hold the answers to the memories you lost, and to the game you were in before. Find them and trust them and work with them to end the game.” He was still blinking.

“It’s up to you, Rantaro. And in the event that someone else finds this video and is watching it… I suppose by then it’ll be up to you as well, whoever you are.” He smiled shakily. “I don’t want this, but we’ll have to deal with it again.” His smile trembled, then fell. “I’m so tired… I don’t want to do this… I… I don’t want to see people dying again--”

Amami broke off, muffling his mouth and his sobs with his hand, crying for at least a minute if not more, blinking strangely the whole time.

(Saihara found himself crying, too.)

Amami then stopped, cutting himself off and heaving deep breaths as he wiped his eyes with his sleeves. “I don’t have time for this. Fuck. I…” He looked directly into the camera again, blinking. “Put in all the effort you possibly can, and _wait and hope,_” he whispered, teardrops still falling. “End it. End the game. End the cycle of despair. _End her tyranny._ I know you can do it.”

“Five more seconds! Choose wisely!” Monokuma’s voice came in clearly-- was he the source of that garbled voice from earlier on in the recording? Amami blinked some more at the camera, then took in a final breath.

“As one of my upperclassmen said… allegedly, right before she died…” he whispered, then smiled through his tears. “‘Smile at despair in the name of hope.’”

And then the screen turned black.

But Saihara and Ouma weren’t paying attention to the final few seconds of the video-- not the sound nor the visuals. 

“FUCK,” Ouma bit his tongue and covered his nose, voice scratchy and trembling as his eyes watered. “Fuck-- why’s the-- fucking smell so--!” 

But Saihara couldn’t hear him.

_ **my friend** _

** _he’s been missing for a while_ **

** _Hinata Hajime-kun_ **

** _persevere… the true light… the end_ **

_ **smile at despair in the name of hope ** _

And then the words around him cleared, turning blurry backgrounds into visible memories.

_‘Saihara-kun… You worry too much, okay?’ _she’d smiled, setting down her videogame console and looking him in the eye as they sat next to each other on the bench. She had gently taken away the console in his own hands from him, forcing him to focus on the conversation at hand. _‘I don’t exactly understand, but **something weird’s going on **at this school. You’re working on a missing person case, right?’_

_‘Yeah…’ _Saihara had said, shuffling his hands awkwardly in front of him._ ‘It’s… classified, so I can’t say anything beyond that.’_

She’d nodded. _‘**My friend**…’ _her expression turned softer and sadder, wistful and nostalgic-- _‘... **he’s been missing for a while** too. His name is **Hinata Hajime-kun**… But we have to think on the bright side when it comes to things like this. It’s like this videogame, you know? You have to **persevere** before you can see **the true light **at **the end** of the tunnel. In other words,’_ she grinned, using her fingers to push up the ends of her lips,_ ‘**smile at despair in the name of hope**!’_

A strangled scream tore itself from Saihara’s throat. _“NANAMI-SENPAI--!”_

And then Saihara returned, panting and sweating and _horrified. _“Shit,” he gasped, knees feeling significantly weaker. “Nana… Nana...mi… Chiaki… senpai…” Only after the headache stopped did he notice that the screen was black. 

“Shut up,_ shut up--”_ Ouma groaned, practically shoving his hand over his nose. “Stop saying her name--!”

“The Death Road,” Saihara realized aloud, and he and Ouma both fell to the ground, headaches worsening. “Traps… spikes… weapons… a long, dungeon-like hallway…”

“It’s the exact same as the place where she died,” Ouma choked out. “That fucking-- hidden hallway in the--!”

“What about… Hinata… Hajime…?” Saihara continued weakly, clutching the side of the table for support. “Where have I heard…”

And then another image came to mind. 

_‘**Stay here**,’ _he had whispered. There had been no panic or urgency in his voice-- he sounded almost like a robot._ ‘All of you… **be quiet and hide **in here if you want to live.’_ His long, wavy black hair framed his face, red eyes commanding and yet confused, the neutral downward curl of his lip seeming more like that of a bored child than of a fearful teenager like the rest of them.

_‘You’re senpai’s friend,’ _Saihara’s voice had trembled. _‘Nanami Chiaki-senpai’s--_ I’ve seen your face before--’

_‘No.’ _The other boy had shaken his head and exhaled. _‘No… I’m not the same as Hajime.’ _He had turned around to leave, then paused one last time, looking back at the sixteen trembling students before him._ ‘Hope’s Peak Academy Class 79-A… You would all do well to pretend I was never here.’_

“Kamukura Izuru,” the words tumbled out of Saihara’s mouth, his throat dry, his heart and mind racing, finally _remembering _something, and immediately, Ouma yelled.

“STOP--” Ouma began breathing more heavily, covering his nose and digging his nails into his own face from how much the headache must’ve been hurting him. “Stop, stop it, _don’t say his name,_ the smell’s--” _stronger,_ he didn’t say. Ouma only let out a whine, then panted, holding himself up despite the pain.

The only thing left in the room was the noise of their own heavy breathing.

“Rewind it,” Ouma got up, sighing as he pinched Saihara, suddenly perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just been writhing and yelling in pain. “Rewind the video.”

Saihara frowned, gritting his teeth as he clutched his head. “Okay?” He used his free hand to move the mouse and click on the file again.

“Pause it,” Ouma said hurriedly, wincing. “Just for a sec.” He ran to the couch, grabbing his pen and notebook, and returned to the table. “Okay, start it,” he said, opening the notebook.

They watched again, gritting their teeth the whole way through. The sound of Amami’s sobbing was almost numb to Saihara’s ears-- he couldn’t bear to listen to the pain in the other boy’s voice again.

“Rewind it again,” Ouma commanded, going back and forth between looking at the video and furiously writing. “Again,” he said. “Do it again.”

Saihara obeyed. “What’s going on?”

“Look for yourself, okay?” Ouma said sharply, focused on writing. He groaned, ruffling his own hair. “Just--_ nobody blinks that fucking unnaturally on accident, Saihara.”_

Saihara observed, furrowing his brows. Amami speaking, Amami crying, Amami blinking.

Blinking. Irrational blinking. At first Saihara had assumed it was just Amami blinking back tears, but… there was a pattern to it. And then he realized. “Amami-kun-- he’s blinking in _morse code?”_

“Rewind it again, I’ve almost caught everything,” Ouma nudged Saihara almost impatiently, not bothering to deign the deduction with a proper answer.

“Is it Wabun code?” Saihara asked as he rewinded the video again, suddenly curious. “Or is it English morse code? I don’t know either of them myself.”

“English,” Ouma said, writing the last bits of it. “I taught myself out of boredom once. And considering Rantaro’s background... it makes sense why he’d go with that.”

“That’s… insane,” Saihara stammered as he watched the video again, all higher vocabulary escaping him in his disbelief. _He managed to do that while crying and having a mental breakdown on camera?!_ “Holy shit. That’s... insanely smart.”

“Smart, but it’s also desperacy at its finest,” Ouma muttered, putting the cap back on his pen and holding up the journal. “Here’s the coded message he blinked for himself. I translated it back to Japanese.”

> -AMAMI RANTARO 17 ULT ADVENTURER
> 
> -HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY 3-YR HIGH SCHOOL 
> 
> -STUDENT COUNCIL MURDERED 
> 
> -PARADE PROTEST BY RESERVE COURSE AND PUBLIC AFTER EXPERIMENT LEAKED
> 
> -ULTIMATE HUNT PUBLIC STORMED IN MASSACRED MAIN COURSE STUDENTS YOUR CLASS LIVED
> 
> -RESERVE COURSE MASS-SUICIDE
> 
> -KILLING SCHOOL LIFE FIRST KILLING GAME 7 SURVIVORS INCLUDING YOURSELF
> 
> -NEW VIRTUAL KILLING GAME WITH YOUR CLASSMATES
> 
> -ALL OF THIS ORCHESTRATED BY THE ULTIMATE--

Saihara’s breath hitched, and he was hit with another headache:

_ **dress up** _

** _deal with his remains_ **

** _was framed_ **

“It cuts off after that,” Ouma sighed, frustrated. “So we don’t know which asshole is behind this… But that aside,” he looked up at Saihara. "Our memories cut off when we were around fifteen to obscure the fact that we went to Hope's Peak. Since Rantaro said he was seventeen and we're all from the same class, it means we're all actually around seventeen years old..." he grimaced. "Depending on what time of year it is, some of us might actually be eighteen by now."

“I think…” Saihara licked his lips, recalling what Harukawa had told him back in the exisal hangar. “The memories everyone else got while we were in the hangar… I think they’re a twist on all of this.” He locked his jaw, sure of himself. “There’s no way that stuff about outer space can be true, but according to Amami-kun’s video, the Ultimate Hunt was a real event that happened during the Tragedy. So some of the terms are real, but the other stuff is made up. And if Amami-kun really was in that killing game--” Saihara paused, gesturing around the lab. “--Which I definitely don’t doubt, considering this setup…” he exhaled. “Then the whole story the consoles presented falls apart.”

Ouma was silent.

Saihara narrowed his eyes. “They contradict each other. All of the memories we’re being fed are fake.” 

=

Strange meteors, news reports, a disease, funerals, the Ultimate Hunt, the world ending. Gonta crying, Ouma’s mind racing. A console in his hands, a snowy rooftop, and Iruma’s blue, strangled face.

Ouma felt like a_ fucking fool._

“The flashback lights were obviously a lie, but the consoles were too, huh,” Ouma chuckled. He covered his face in his hands. “Fucking…” he shook, sucking in a deep breath. “Of course they were.”

Saihara only looked at him, almost pityingly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“So…?” Saihara finally ventured. “Now what? We’re all students of Hope’s Peak who survived the Tragedy. How did we get here? What did Kamukura Izuru have to do with our survival? How did we manage to get kidnapped into a killing game?”

The antiseptic smell flared a bit at the mention of Kamukura’s name; Ouma ignored it and tried to think. Saihara was right; there were a lot of questions that still hadn’t been answered. “More importantly… let’s just think of how we’ll end the game for now.”

“We have to find the--” Saihara gulped. “The real mastermind. But now that we can’t fake a trial with a dead body…”

“And whose fault is that?” Ouma grinned, shoving back the resounding urge to _punch Saihara in the face. _It was so very conflicting, loving someone who was clearly smart and yet absolutely moronic. “If you’d thought about things long-term instead of putting ideals before realism, we wouldn’t be here.”

“If we’d gone with your plan, we wouldn’t have found Amami-kun’s video or learned the truth,” Saihara corrected. “Both plans had their advantages. There’s no point being bitter about it now.”

Right. _That_ was why he liked Saihara.

Ouma got out his journal and opened it. “Let’s brainstorm,” he took the cap off his pen, switching gears. “If we both work together…” he looked up at Saihara, somewhat hesitantly. “We’ll think of something.”

=

Saihara smiled, relieved. “Alright.”

It would work. He and Ouma would figure something out. He shifted, moving to where Ouma was sitting and looking over the journal as they discussed. _It’s like Amami-kun said..._

_We’ll put in all the effort we possibly can, and wait and hope._

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is **real**(ly what's happening in this fic). No, you're not **dream**ing (or are you?).
> 
> Wabun code, in case anyone hasn't yet figured, is Japanese kana morse code. 
> 
> Shoutout to Zee for correctly predicting that this fic was a Hope’s Peak timeline AU, like, three months ago. Back before the second trial had even started. You gave me the biggest fucking heart attack of my _life,_ but all's good in fanfiction and war. I'm impressed and amazed, and I hope this chapter was satisfying to you ^^ Shoutout also to Ally (cloudycitrus) for getting the 'wait and hope' bit before it really came into play ;)
> 
> The V3 rewrite I wanted to write was one where all three games were connected to the same plot line. A proper trilogy, in other words. I said back in the prologue that this AU was gonna be a long ride... and it is. Surprise! It's a series! Now that it's been properly introduced, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'm happy to have undertaken this project.
> 
> **EDIT, 10/21/2020:** For various reasons, I will no longer be rewriting all of the Danganronpa games as a full series. Any other author's notes referencing a series beyond this point are older/from when I first posted the chapters; **it will not be happening.** Thank you all for your understanding. I hope you all continue to read, enjoy, love this fic for what it is. :')
> 
> LINKS TO FANART!!!!!!!!! BC THIS FIC HAS THEM AND YALL SHOULD CHECK THEM OUT :'D
> 
> [1\. Section 3 fanart by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/189659362317/a-lil-fanart-for-section-3-of-khattikeris)  
[2\. Ouma's execution fanart by Kira @/celesteori](https://celesteori.tumblr.com/post/190110587652/so-see-the-entire-reason-i-have-this-personal-in)  
[3\. Ouma's execution fanart for Ouma Month 2020 by @/kzkanzaki](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBJp3_BgM-2/?igshid=1neoamod3x8ux)  
[4\. Amami's video + Saihara's flashbacks by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/190850687652/lads-ive-gone-fucking-ham-today-heres-some)  
As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, here's [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)!


	44. 5-9. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loving your friends means not betraying them (even in the midst of despair).
> 
> Loving your family means caring, even if you're dysfunctional or distant.
> 
> Being in love means accepting and helping with each other's faults (and giving each other hope).
> 
> And love itself means--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!!!! IT'S BEEN ALMOST A MONTH BUT I PROMISE I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Happy (extremely extremely belated) Valentine's Day! Real life (college, midterm exams, family responsibilities/drama, etc.) caught up with me (read: beat me to a fuckin pulp) and I had to put my weekly writing on hold for a while. But now that I'm a bit more free, we're finally here ^^
> 
> General warning for creepy imagery (thaaaaanks [redacted]) and hurt/comfort in this chapter!
> 
> Also! This is also by far the longest chapter I've written for this fic so far, holy shit. It's like, nearly 17k. Thanks for your patience, everyone-- I hope you all enjoy it.

“If we want our plan to go well, we need to think hard about what the plan is actually gonna be,” Saihara muttered, deep in thought. “So first, we should-- Ouma-kun?” 

Ouma had closed his journal almost immediately after he opened it, setting it to the side and rummaging through some desk drawers. “Yes, Saihara-chan?”

“Aren’t we--” Saihara blinked, terribly befuddled. _I thought we were having a moment! Is now really the time for whatever new distraction you have?! _“What are you doing?”

“I’m going mermaid shopping,” Ouma sighed. “It’s a shame, though. We were in a bull market a few weeks ago, but the economy for it’s starting to go bad thanks to mercury poisoning in the most recent catches. If things don’t shape up sooner or later, I might have to sell Saihara-chan’s spleen to afford good mermaid meat.”

_Why _my _spleen? Use your own! _Saihara spoke carefully. “Ouma-kun. We need to come up with a plan.” 

Ouma rolled his eyes as he brought out a chess set from one of the drawers. “No fucking kidding? Thanks, Captain _Obvious.”_

_So you say, but you’re the one who’s bringing out a game of chess instead of actually thinking about what we’re gonna do next, _Saihara kept to himself, irritation rising. “Why do you have a chess board?”

Ouma smiled sweetly, raising a brow. “There are plenty of _other_ things we can do in a place this dark if you don’t care for chess, my beloved Saihara-chan.”

Saihara choked on his own spit before catching his own breath. _God, Ouma-kun's so..._ "We're trapped in Amami-kun's creepy red murder room with only survivor rations, a bear USB drive, and a useless laptop for the foreseeable future, so forgive me if I don't wanna get frisky with you right away," Saihara rolled his eyes. He sighed. “Please answer the question. Why do you have a chess board?”

“If we want the best possible plan ever,” Ouma said, setting up both sides of the board, “then I need you to understand what kind of game we’re playing, kay? We can play one teensy little game and then actually write stuff down in my journal.” He sat down on one end and smiled expectantly. “Well?”

Saihara paused, staring at him. “I don’t even know how to play chess, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma blinked, smile unwavering and waiting.

Saihara let out a long-suffering sigh, getting up from where he was. “Okay.”

Ouma cheerfully explained the rules of chess, trusting Saihara to understand without needing a full game to practice. Saihara did, naturally-- memorizing rules was important-- but the chess board still made him a bit uneasy. Ouma’s failed execution was barely over a week ago, and it still lingered in his mind. _Maybe Ouma-kun’s offering to play this as a means of coping before we have to continue figuring out what the mastermind is up to…?_

Seeming to notice his distress, Ouma glanced at him. “Don’t worry about me,” he grinned. “I’ll fucking destroy you at this game.”

_Or not._

The game began. Saihara felt himself falling behind, trapped in whatever scheme Ouma planned. Each time he glanced at Ouma, the other boy was already looking at him, smiling coyly, expectantly, as if he already knew what sort of mental acrobatics Saihara was doing in his attempts to figure him out. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to an hour.

Saihara moved his bishop to capture one of Ouma’s last few pawns.

“Whoa, there!” Ouma interrupted sharply; Saihara winced, then scanned his eyes over the board. He’d moved diagonally, the way he was supposed to, and after double-checking he found that there was nothing on Ouma’s side that could capture his bishop. 

“What?” Saihara asked. 

Ouma grinned. “Get me a snack from the ration closet and I’ll tell you.”

Reluctantly, Saihara obeyed-- Ouma almost certainly had some sort of trick up his sleeves, but really, what else could he do?

It was only after Ouma caught the apple Saihara tossed to him that Saihara realized how _weird _it was for there to be a perishable fruit in a ration storage closet. _How has that apple not gone bad by now? I mean, if this game is virtual then I guess that’s one thing, but I know for a fact that food goes bad here… Toujo-san used to throw stuff out every now and then, so this apple shouldn’t be an exception..._

Ouma munched on the apple and began to lecture, snapping Saihara out of his thoughts. “Now, Saihara-chan,” he explained between bites, “Listen carefully. While you left to get me this apple, all those pieces of mine that you captured slipped their guards, tunneled to safety, and emerged in the middle of your palace. You were focused on my queen, but in doing so you ignored the intelligence of my pawns. [The coup is certain to be a success.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274163) Your king is finished. Checkmate.”

Saihara sputtered in disbelief. “Huh?! That’s not--”

“Au contraire, my beloved Saihara-chan! It _is_ a part of the rules!” Ouma swallowed a chunk of the apple. “After all, when you’re playing a game where death is possible, anything goes.”

Then it dawned on him. A game. Strategy and survival. Anything goes, and the so-called rules are a farce. _This is a metaphor for the killing game._ Saihara turned his gaze to the board again, carefully observing all the pieces. Ouma was right-- in trying to focus on the dangerous queen, he’d ignored all the smaller pieces that had secretly teamed up in order to defeat him. 

“Are you trying to say,” Saihara licked his lips, “That in order for the mastermind to really be taken down, we need to become dangerous enough that the others work together and try to defeat them on their own, without us?”

Ouma hummed.

_I have to figure it out myself, huh… Well, either way… it seems like Ouma-kun’s missing the point of his own metaphor. _Saihara tilted his head. “...You do realize that’s exactly what you tried and failed to do earlier, right? With the whole evil mastermind speech after the fourth trial, and the kidnapping plan after the exisal hangar was unlocked.”

(Saihara positively relished the way Ouma choked on the apple when he said that.)

He continued. “This was clever. And fun. But I don’t think that acting evil and undermining our own desire to save everyone is the best way to subtly force everyone to work together.” Saihara pursed his lips. “The sort of teamwork they’re doing to try and rescue me isn’t focused on the real mastermind, Ouma-kun, it’s focused on _you._ You’re a decoy, and all that’s gonna end up doing is help the person actually behind everything. Not playing by the game’s rules… it can work, but I think the way you’re applying it might backfire on you someday.”

Ouma looked as though the apple had suddenly gone rancid. Then, he shrugged it off. “Hm.” He changed the subject and began to pick up the pieces, putting away the chess board. "It must suck, huh, not actually being able to feel like you’ve won," Ouma snickered. “Nobody’s ever beaten me at chess before, so I’m pretty glad that you failed too, Saihara-chan.”

Saihara took in Ouma's soft, laughing form, the tired creases around his eyes and the wide curve of his mouth from a genuine smile, even if the other boy was trying to hide his dismay at everything that he’d failed at so far. Saihara gazed at him in his entirety, practically drinking in the dream-like sight. Infuriating and simultaneously rewarding, a step closer to being able to survive together and cooperate to create a plan that would save the others as well. 

Even if there was the possibility that it was a lie, that Ouma truly didn’t care, Saihara found, disturbingly, that he didn’t even mind. It was a sight that only he, Saihara Shuichi, had ever seen from the other boy.

_**‘Now that we’re a hundred percent alone**… tell me.’ _Ouma had tapped his foot, grinning with his arms behind his head. _**‘I’m curious, so tell me.** What did you deduce about the middle school I went to?’_

_‘You…’ _Saihara had spoken warily, eyes observant and voice quiet. _‘Ouma-kun... you were **homeschooled, weren’t you**?’_

_‘What makes you think that?’_ Ouma had sighed, looking dismissively at his nails.

_‘You fidget a lot with your uniform in class,’ _Saihara replied hesitantly._ ‘Shifting like it’s uncomfortable, or like you’re not used to wearing one. Especially with the tie. Since you’re okay with the scarf, it made me think that you probably just aren’t used to tying a tie, so you cover it up with your scarf instead.’_ He had put a finger over his mouth. _‘I looked into the middle schools in this area, and all of them have a tie requirement.’_

_**‘Wha-- how did you--’**_ Ouma had gasped dramatically, then yawned. _‘Juuuust kidding, that’s a lie. Jeez, you didn’t even consider that I could’ve worn a gakuran?’ _Ouma had twitched, almost annoyed.

_‘The last school to still use them in this region was my middle school,’_ Saihara furrowed his brows._ ‘And even they phased it out in my second year, so you would’ve spent at least one year wearing a tie, which you clearly didn’t since you’re still not used to wearing a tie.’_

_‘Who said I went to middle school in this region, anyway?’_

_‘...’ _Saihara had been quiet. Then, he’d spoken again: _‘When Gokuhara-kun brought out his bugs in class the other day, you started shrieking and yelling at him in standard Japanese. People speak most naturally when they’re at an emotional high, which includes being startled or scared… and since you spoke standard Japanese then, it proves that you have to be from the Kanto region, not just anywhere in Japan.’_

At this, Ouma had blinked, suddenly intrigued. _‘I could’ve been a returnee from abroad.’_

_‘Momota-kun studied abroad for a while and mentioned his TOEFL score this morning, and you asked him what TOEFL was, which means you don’t know about standardized English exams,’ _Saihara had pointed out. _‘And when Iidabashi-kun looked over our first English essays for the school year, I overheard him telling you yours sounded abysmally stiff, so it’s not like you were born and raised in a foreign country for the majority of your life,’ _Saihara sighed. He blinked._ ‘Ah! Sorry, I tend to talk a lot--’_

_‘Continue,’ _Ouma had tapped his cheek with a finger._ ‘And thanks for reminding me! I’m gonna dye all of Iidabashi’s stuff purple to get back at him for that.’_

_‘Despite your English, your proficiency in essentially every other subject and your…’ _Saihara had grimaced._ ‘...personality makes it seem like you got special attention at some point.’_ He had continued. _‘Students in schools with big class sizes don't get that sort of special focus and care. So you had to have gone somewhere small, in Japan, in the Kanto region itself, and without uniforms.’ _

Ouma’s eyes had widened.

‘The only place that fits would be your own home,’ Saihara had finished._ ‘You were homeschooled, Ouma-kun.’_

Ouma had stared at him. _‘Huh…’_

Saihara had only stared at him, a brow raised as he quietly spoke up again: ‘...Well? Was I right?’

And then Ouma had burst into laughter._ ‘Nope, you’re wrong!’_

_‘W-What?!’ _Saihara turned bright red._ ‘N-No way, I even asked my uncle to look into all the middle school registries! Was your name different? Was that it? How--’_

_‘Oh, god, no,’ _Ouma had wheezed._ ‘Holy shit, I’m _kidding._’ _He’d brushed a tear from the corner of his eyes._ ‘I can’t believe you went as far as to research my past behind my back… all for some pompous riddle I dared the class to solve on a whim…’_

_‘I… can keep it a secret if you don’t want others to know,’_ Saihara had offered.

_‘Why would I bother with that? It was a lie and you were wrong.’_ Ouma’s lie had been completely exposed from his constant snickering. 

_‘So I was right…?’_ Saihara beamed a bit, pleased with himself.

_‘You’re really interesting,_’ Ouma had smiled, fist covering his genuinely wide grin, plum-toned hair and brown Hope’s Peak Academy jacket fluttering in the breezy rooftop wind. _‘You… are the most interesting person I’ve met.’ _He’d chuckled. ‘_Ultimate Detective, huh? Saihara Shuichi-kun?’_ Ouma Kokichi had smiled at him, pink dusting his cheeks, then stuck out his hand for a handshake before Saihara could respond._ ‘Let’s be friends from now on.’_

And then the image faded, and Saihara saw Ouma in front of him, smiling that same smile, amused from the game he’d just played.

“Saihara-chaaaan?” Ouma waved an obnoxious hand in front of Saihara’s face.

“Ah," Saihara startled, voice a little choked up and distant.

“Oh, you’re back.” Ouma changed his face, looking exaggeratedly annoyed. “Quit zoning out so much! Tuning out supreme leaders is illegal according to the new constitution I drafted up for Ja--” he blinked. “Hey. Why are you crying?”

“Ah…” Immediately, Saihara brushed away the tears on his cheeks using the heels of his palms, sniffling. “Don’t… Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh… If you say so.” Ouma changed face, back to happy mode. “Nishishi… Anyway! As I was saying, it sucks that you lost.”

“No…” Saihara looked at Ouma, head aching with memory of the other boy’s smile and of the game they’d played so long ago. "…I think I did win after all."

“...?” Ouma stared at him for a bit, then turned around. “You’re so weird, Saihara-chan. But oh well! Now we can actually plan!” He put the chess set aside and took out his journal.

Saihara looked at his wristwatch. “Yeah… the others have probably invaded the hangar by now.”

“Then they’ll probably find the note in the Love Hotel soon,” Ouma mused. “And then they’ll cry and cry and cry and cry and go to sleep.”

Saihara grimaced as he shifted. _Sadistic much?_

Ouma continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “Anyway… my first idea is to use the Necronomicon to resurrect Rantaro and just have him explain everything. The one downside is that I’m pretty sure the bears took the Necronomicon back after the third trial, so we’d have to sneak around and steal it back first…”

“Hold on, there’s no way that would work,” Saihara protested. “Isn’t that--”

“It’s what Angie wanted to tell me before she died,” Ouma said, grin dropping off his face like a fly. “She realized that was the academy was virtual.”

_Angie-san realized this place was virtual?_

After getting over the initial shock, Saihara’s mind immediately went to work. _Why tell Ouma-kun specifically? Did they have private conversations or something?_ He shook his head. _No, that’s not the point… How did Angie-san realize…? _Saihara gaped. 

“She probably told you and the others that she realized something, remember?” Ouma pressed. “About the nature of this academy, and the motive…”

_Wait a minute… _“Monokuma never lied outright about the motives,” Saihara put a finger over his mouth. “He hid things, or omitted the full truth, but he never lied outright…” _And the motive…_ At last, it dawned on him. “So when he said that the Necronomicon would bring someone who had died back to life, he meant that whoever had died would literally be revived, because this whole place is virtual and they weren’t actually dead?” 

Ouma only pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“But then…” Saihara trailed off, wondering. _Does that mean Kaede and the others also…?_

It was too good to be true.

(He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high.)

_That aside… Why did Shinguji-kun get false memories of an older sister, and of himself being a serial killer? What was the point of that?_ _He clearly remembered something important before he died, too… And then there’s Hoshi-kun and Toujo-san… If the consoles and flashback lights were a lie, then whatever they saw in their motive videos was probably a lie too, right? But they believed it to some extent, so was it really entirely fake? _

It was actually rather depressing to think about. Everyone’s deaths… With these new revelations about the whole thing being virtual, everyone’s deaths seemed so _pointless. _

“Saihara-chan, you need to talk if you want me to have a conversation,” Ouma said curiously, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You actually speak out like, ten percent of whatever you think about in that big detective noggin.”

“I was just thinking,” Saihara mumbled. He sighed. “It’s off-topic. We should focus on planning.”

_‘You deserve to move on and _live._ Even if this is the end of my story… I trust you and the others to continue onwards. Fulfill my will. End this killing game, no matter what it takes. Okay?’_

(He swallowed the bile in his throat and tried to shove away the memory of her swinging, purple face, dangling hauntedly in front of them.) 

Thoughts of all his friends who had lived and died lingered in Saihara’s thoughts as Ouma turned to his open journal, pointing out various lines of action they could take. 

Saihara’s mind was made up. _No matter what, even if this game is virtual… Whether everyone will be dead or alive when we all get out of whatever simulation this is…_

He clenched his jaw.

_...for the sake of ending this game, I’ll move forward and bring the truth to light._

= 

“Nyeh…” Yumeno whined as the gentle morning sunlight pierced her eyes. “It’s morning…”

_Astute observation,_ Shirogane thought drily. _I never would’ve known. _“W-We should probably wake up Momota-kun and the others, then,” she bit her lip. “And-- and after breakfast, we should search for Ouma-kun and Saihara-kun…”

Yumeno was already pinching Harukawa’s cheeks. “Harumakiii,” she whispered. “Makimaki!”

Harukawa’s eyes flashed open; Yumeno startled and fell back. “Oh, it’s morning,” Harukawa yawned, rubbing her cheek as she got up. “...”

“Now... that everyone’s awake,” Kiibo swayed somewhat unnaturally as he forced himself to stand, “breakfast? And then we’ll split up to search.”

A fine idea <strike>no, not really, there’s no point in eating and staying alive or trying to live when everything’s pointless,</strike> in Shirogane’s opinion.

She paused.

_(Why do I keep contradicting myself?)_

Her head hurt a lot. It hurt,<strike> she was scared, she was in danger, </strike>she was in pain until she got used to it and was left with only the emotion of--

_(Do I really want hope to win in the end, or despair…?)_

Fear and foreboding churned in her empty stomach, leaving her with nothing but confused questions echoing in her head as she refused to bring them to life.

Shirogane took a deep breath and got up, feet heavy as she followed her robot to the cafeteria. _Whatever. Hope and despair… are just concepts from Danganronpa._

_The Tragedy wasn’t real. _

_It’s all fictional..._

=

Breakfast was so rote, so mechanical and silent, that for a moment Harukawa felt like she was back in the assassin’s barracks, training til she collapsed.

_Impressive how much Shuichi and Ouma’s presence changes our morale, _she thought, mindlessly shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. _And Kaito’s energy levels._ She carefully flicked her gaze over the others. 

Shirogane nibbled each spoonful like a mouse.

Kiibo ate like a child being forced to, fiddling with his spoon and gritting his teeth as if he was having some sort of mental argument over whether to keep eating or not. 

Momota was grinning like some sort of clown determined to cheer them all up, but his slow chewing betrayed the obvious distress his body was under.

Yumeno was--

Harukawa raised a brow. Yumeno smiled and gave a tiny wave at Harukawa, then immediately turned her gaze elsewhere, absentmindedly eating the cereal in front of her.

Harukawa narrowed her eyes. _Yumeno’s observing the others too…? This plus the thing about the blue handkerchief… Just what is she thinking?_

They all finished their food and cleaned up after themselves, silently helping each other.

Then, Momota cleared his throat, coughing a bit: “Alright, who’s goin’ with who?”

“I call going with Shirogane!” Yumeno raised her hand and blurted, immediately latching onto the taller girl.

Shirogane blinked, sweating. “E-Eh…?”

“You hang out with Shirogane-san a lot more often these days,” Kiibo observed mildly.

Yumeno frowned, clutching Shirogane’s arm more tightly; Shirogane’s cheeks turned the slightest shade pink. “I enjoy her company. Is it wrong for two girls who are simply friends to go exploring together?”

_That sounds kinda gay,_ Harukawa thought. 

“Y-Yumeno-san… tight…” Shirogane stuttered. Yumeno let go, but still hung onto Shirogane’s sleeve.

“Makimaki can come too,” Yumeno amended. “It’d be helpful.”

“I’ll… pass,” Harukawa said at last, narrowing her gaze._ What is her deal? Helpful how? _Harukawa tried to communicate with her eyes, or telepathically ask Yumeno what she was thinking or whether she suddenly had a thing for Shirogane even after she claimed to still love Chabashira, but Yumeno only smiled back.

_Curse my inability to connect with people!_

“I’ll go with you two, then,” Momota coughed. “‘n that leaves Kiibo with Harumaki. Two different groups sound fair?”

Harukawa’s nostrils flared. _He’s trying to avoid me again!_

But before she could protest, Kiibo spoke up. “It works,” he said. “Now, which group is going where?”

=

“Let’s, um-- let’s have our group look at the upper floors,” Shirogane suggested, a hint of urgency bleeding through her voice. “Something… something tells me those two might’ve snuck there to avoid being seen…”

Momota coughed at that; Yumeno clenched her fist around the blue handkerchief in her pocket. “Nyeh… wouldn’t climbing all those stairs be bad for Momota?” _She knows that he’s in our group but still suggested it… I hate it, but she really is hiding something... _

“‘S fine,” Momota waved her off. “Someone’s gonna have ta search it either way.”

“Then Kiibo and I can do the basement, ground floor, second floor, and the courtyard,” Harukawa said. “And you three can cover the third floor up to Kaito’s lab.”

Everyone agreed. It was a lot to cover, but they had the whole day to search-- surely one of them would find Saihara or Ouma.

“Nyeh…” Yumeno sighed, resigning herself. “Fine. Let’s go.”

=

Shirogane took the lead for once and led the other two up the stairs.

It was a little concerning how attached Yumeno seemed to be to her, but Yumeno wasn’t meant to be a smart character, so it was probably just a subconscious attempt to pair off the spares. A bit uncomfortable, but nothing too dangerous to Shirogane’s cover.

Momota didn’t complain about walking up all the stairs either-- though Shirogane knew that it probably still hurt, so she walked as slowly as she possibly could without sacrificing too much time. 

Eventually, they made it to the fifth floor.

“Why--” Momota wheezed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Why’d we go to the fifth floor first…”

“T-They, um--” Shirogane scrambled. “This is furthest away from the dorms or the gym, so it’d be easier for them to avoid us here. Not to mention, we passed all the other floors, and there wasn't a sign of movement or anything...” _And also, they could be in Amami’s lab, and I really wanna go there first…!_

She walked along until she reached the area where Amami’s lab should’ve been-- but it was still covered up; the concrete wall was still intact.

_Good._ Shirogane beamed a bit, pleased and relieved. _If they were actually here, the wall definitely would’ve been destroyed. Things are going my way…_

Shirogane frowned. _Wait… Wouldn’t it have been better if they were here? Then we could catch them, and the game could continue._

_Wait, no-- _Her brows knit, mind racing, and the walls and hallways appeared to shift in front of her in tandem with her own confusion. _It’s bad for the game to continue because of despair <strike>[?!???? ERROR]</strike> Despair is good because hope is pointless, isn’t it?_

A splitting headache wracked Shirogane’s brain, and then she was back in her own mental movie theater again. This time, the film-like memories were in grainy color.

_‘It’s a fun videogame,’ _Saihara had quirked the end of his lip up, shifting slightly to let her see the console in his hands and the strange, abandoned yet futuristic-looking school building on its screen. _‘Nanami-senpai introduced me to it. Do you want to try, Shirogane-san?’_

Flash forward.

_‘What are you doing here?’ _Amami had paled. _‘Where are the others? I thought--’_

Flash forward.

The cameras had been watching Shirogane’s every move, every step, she couldn’t go back to where she’d come from-- she had been running, running, running, rounded the familiar corners of Hope’s Peak Academy and past a door, closing herself shut in a locker and hiding with no way to go back.

Flash forward.

_‘It’s because you followed him out that he’s suffering now,’_ her voice had whispered mockingly in Shirogane’s ear. _‘His horrified screaming… and crying… his distrust, his inevitable mental spiral… everything is your fault,’_ she’d said. _‘What’s the point in trying to escape? You’re going to die. Amami Rantaro-kun is also going to die. All of your classmates are going to die.’_

_‘I--’_ Shirogane’s tongue had turned to jelly; her heartbeat had been beating fast against her ribcage like a jackhammer, frightened and alone; she needed to get away--

_‘How cute… You don’t have to be scared of me, you know?’ _she had smiled wryly, cold fingers tilting Shirogane’s chin. _‘Just think of this as a usual doctor’s visit… like in the good old days.’_

Shirogane hadn’t even been able to let out a sound.

_‘Everyone in the world is dead or in despair,’ _she had continued._ ‘It’s basic psychology… Stress gets to people. And in a situation like yours, well… There’s no point. You can’t escape. There’s no hope. There’s nothing outside. The world is a wasteland, and even if you struggle against me, you and your classmates will only die more gruesome deaths.’_

Shirogane had quivered.

_‘Go on, repeat what I just said. Repetition is key to enhance memory, remember?’_

_‘T-There’s… no…’_ Shirogane had trembled, tears silently flooding out._ ‘...point…’ _She was going to die, her classmates and upperclassmen were going to die, everything was her fault, escape was futile, and the dreadful thoughts only piled up in her head the longer she was in Ultimate Despair’s presence. The pit in her chest grew stronger, stronger, more anguished, more dark and empty, despairing--!

“Now then, Shirogane Tsumugi-chan,” Enoshima Junko turned, staring straight at the movie theater’s audience of one and grinning gleefully, teeth shining razor-sharp. **“Tell me where your class is hiding.”**

“NO!” Shirogane let out a piercing, torturous scream, and then everything turned black.

=

_ **I remember... the truth… Do you… please...** _

_Get out of my head._

_ **I’ve… connected… everything...** _

_You haven’t connected shit._

Kiibo sighed, dragging his palms over his face. Harukawa was giving him a particularly concerned yet disgusted side-eye, so the circle of stupidity he was experiencing felt truly complete.

The swells of emotions were strong enough that his heart (chestplate! _Chestplate! _Kiibo didn’t have a human heart!) felt like it was being pierced; his inner voice itself sounded rather garbled and static-y. 

The moment Momota, Yumeno, and Shirogane had all left for the stairs, he and Harukawa searched the second floor. The basement and ground floors were for later; since nobody had seen Saihara or Ouma on the ground floor, and you had to be on the ground floor to reach the basement, it was less likely that Saihara and Ouma were there. 

Upon finding nothing on the second floor, they went back down the stairs and out into the courtyard.

“There are some labs in the courtyard, but somehow I doubt they’d hide there,” Kiibo mused.

“We’re searching them anyway,” Harukawa ordered. “Your lab, Iruma’s lab, and Chabashira’s lab. Then we go through the Death Road again, then we search the basement and ground floor.”

Kiibo nodded. He wasn’t about to argue with Harukawa, of all people. They continued walking through the courtyard, eyes peeled for any movement. 

All the other labs were indoors, now that Kiibo thought about it. The only exceptions were Amami’s lab and Ouma’s lab, neither of which had been revealed. _Naturally the mastermind’s lab wouldn’t be shown_. He sighed.

_ **He’s... not...** _

Kiibo grit his teeth. _You again..._

_ **Aagh, I’m not your… enemy! Listen to me… I’m…** _

_My head hurts again… what do you want?_

_ **Been trying to… hack… hasn’t worked so f… don’t panic...** _

Suddenly, a strange tingling sensation went up Kiibo’s spine. He froze in place, heating up. _Huh? What’s-- _

And then everything turned black.

=

“Shirogane! Shirogane!” Momota coughed, tapping the girl’s shoulders according to CPR protocol. _“Shirogane!_ Can ya hear me?!”

“She passed out,” Yumeno pointed out, as if Momota couldn’t obviously tell just by looking.

“No_ shit, _Yumeno,” he hissed, clicking his tongue. _She’s not breathing…_ He put his ear against her chest, checking for a heartbeat. 

“H-Hey! What are you doing touching a girl’s chest like that?!” Yumeno turned pink. 

Momota brought his head back up, blinking owlishly at her. “Uh-- savin’ her life?”

“You better not be copping a feel,” Yumeno narrowed her eyes.

Momota stared. “You really think I’d care about boobs at a time like this?”

“W-Well, no, but…” Yumeno shuffled, twisting her mouth. “Girls look out for other girls.”

Momota rolled his eyes. “‘f we’re goin’ by the Monopads, mine’re way bigger’n hers ta begin with,” he muttered under his breath. He blinked. _Huh…? _

His chest felt… clear. Momota took in a deep breath, and air filled his lungs instead of watery blood.

Another breath. No blood.

_He was breathing._

Momota whipped around. “Yumeno, I’m--”

Yumeno’s eyes were wide. “You’re--”

“--not sick anymore?”

“--not sick anymore!”

Yumeno folded her arms in front of her chest. “So you admit that you were sick.”

Momota grinned, nearly crying from sheer relief. “I can breathe, holy shit--” It was such a relief. Now he could lead again, be more helpful to the group… 

His heart clenched a bit. Gonta had also been similar-- wanting to use his strength to help everyone. While Gonta was able to do that to some extent, he’d been manipulated and killed. Momota, on the other hand, was still uselessly alive… til now. Now, he’d be able to help.

“C’mon,” he urged Yumeno. “Her heart’s beating, so there’s no need for CPR compressions, but if she’s not breathing we might need to do ventilations--”

“She’s breathing, I think?” Yumeno put her hand in front of Shirogane’s nostril. “It’s super shallow, but her breath tickles a little.”

Momota tapped his fingers against his arm, mentally debating. “Then… she’s just unconscious. Help me take her to the other labs around here ‘n we can go to the lower floors later to search for Ouma ‘n Shuichi.”

Yumeno blanched. “Wh-- S-She’s probably heavy, though!”

“Whatever, kid, just help! I’m feelin’ great!”

“I’m the same age as you,” Yumeno wrinkled her nose, though she still helped prop Shirogane up. 

“Shuichi’s lab first, then Shirogane’s own,” Momota put Shirogane’s arm around his shoulder. Yumeno strained on her tiptoes to match the height. “And if she still doesn’t wake up by then, we’ll go to mine. The fourth and third floors can come after.”

“If I drop her, it’s not my fault,” Yumeno winced, then walked with him. 

=

_The moment Shirogane passed out, Momota’s life-threatening illness disappeared? I’m not a doctor, but there’s no way that should be possible._ Yumeno furrowed her brows. _There’s a lot of stuff that disappears and reappears, or things that change appearance, or just parabolas, but this is ridiculous._

(Twin voices in her head that sounded a lot like Shirogane and Shinguji insisted that she meant ‘paradoxes’, but Yumeno ignored them.)

_...Should I tell him? _

_Momota’s an astronaut, so I can trust his training. Shirogane’s unconscious right now, so… _

“Momota,” Yumeno said at last. “...If anything happens to me, you should look in my left pocket.”

“Your left…?” Momota blinked; then, a look of recognition appeared over his face. “Oh, right! Harumaki snooped through your pockets last night. Something like a handkerchief?”

“What?” Yumeno asked, a bit alarmed. _Aaargh, Makimaki, you’re too impatient! What part of ‘if anything happens to me’ didn’t you get?!_

“Yeah, I noticed her,” Momota nodded. “So what was that about?” 

“...Did you see the color?” Yumeno asked. 

Momota shook his head. “It was too dark.”

“...The scarf is blue,” Yumeno said. “I have scarves with different colors for every student. I told Harumaki the same thing I told you.”

The gears turned in Momota’s head; he seemed to realize what she was implying at last. “You think someone here might try to kill you?” He asked, suddenly serious. “And you’re tryin’ ta leave a dying message by symbolically pointing out who--”

“Not so loud,” Yumeno hissed, stomping her foot; Shirogane’s body shook in her hold. She sighed. “Yes.”

“But why…” Momota used his foot to open the door to Saihara’s lab and set Shirogane down on one of the cushy arm chairs. “Why blue?”

_It’d be easier to show him than to tell him…_ Yumeno pulled the scarf out of her pocket.

“That’s… the same color as…” Momota’s gaze trailed from the scarf to Shirogane, then back again. He blinked. “You think Shirogane’s gonna kill you?”

“I have a hunch about her, but I can’t explain it all,” Yumeno sighed frustratedly, pushing the scarf back into her pocket. “But now that you and Harumaki both know, I feel safer.”

“Why would she do that? She’s harmless,” Momota furrowed his brows. 

Yumeno looked around Saihara’s lab, checking over and under things. “It doesn’t look like they’re here.”

“Hey,” Momota grit his teeth. “Answer the question, Yumeno!”

_Sheesh, he’s pushy now that he isn’t sick…_ “I don’t have proof,” she said at last, biting her lip. “There’s something weird about her, so I’m trying to stick with her for now. Ouma’s suspicious, but so is she. And if anything happens to me or anyone else while Ouma and Saihara are still missing, then…” Yumeno looked at him, steely. “You get it, right?”

Momota nodded, though it looked more like a nod of _‘I sort of kind of get it but not completely so please let’s quit this conversation and just search’_ than one of _‘yes, I understand and will work with you, great magician Yumeno Himiko-sama’._

Yumeno sighed. “Let’s just go to Shirogane’s lab.”

=

The noise of electricity was one that Harukawa had always been conditioned to be wary of-- it could kill you, after all. 

So when she heard the crackling of circuitry going haywire behind her, well…

“Kiibo--” Harukawa whirled around, hand immediately pulling back into a fist.

“I broke through?” An incredulous voice that sounded like a more human version of Kiibo spoke from the wobbling robot, and Harukawa relaxed her grip ever so slightly. “Oh my god, I actually got through--_ shit!”_

_English…? _Harukawa hesitated._ It sounded like one of those bad words Kaito mentioned..._

Kiibo fell over, groaning as he faceplanted into the grass. “Ugh, I’m not used to being in control… freaking… heavy...”

Tentatively, Harukawa walked over towards him. “...Kiibo?” Not bothering to wait for a response, she kicked a pebble at him.

“Ow!” Not-Kiibo exclaimed, hurt. “What was that for?!”

_Weird. He doesn’t seem to be much of a threat. _Harukawa squatted down, poking at him again with a nearby twig.

“Quit that, Harukawa-san!” Not-Kiibo raised his hand and swatted, though the momentum caused him to hit himself in the face instead.

_He even knows my name… _“Who are you?” Harukawa asked at last. “You’re definitely not Kiibo.”

Not-Kiibo rubbed his face in pain, then slowly sat up. “Harukawa-san, do you remember me?”

A flash of someone’s face flickered through Harukawa’s mind at that, and her head began to ache. 

“I’m so sorry,” Not-Kiibo blurted. “This whole thing is my fault and-- getting trapped like this with half of me remembering everything and half of me not is probably my punishment for letting myself get manipulated this badly--”

_What the hell is he yammering about…? _“What’s going on?” Harukawa interrupted urgently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can discuss other details later. Just explain what you know, because whatever you’re talking about, I don’t remember it.”

Not-Kiibo took in a deep breath. “Please please please try to remember what happened, I-- I finally hacked through my amnesiac self, so all I have to do now is get through the rest of the system and reach Shi--” 

Garbled static.

“WAIT, DON’T--” his volume rose, suddenly panicking. “Okay, okay, before she passes out for real or cuts me out again-- the person who forced us here is--”

(Harukawa’s skin prickled all of a sudden; distantly, she felt like she heard a scream.)

More electricity crackled, and then Not-Kiibo shut down, falling to the ground in a heap.

“Kiibo?” Harukawa didn’t dare touch conductive metal, but her alarm was immeasurable. “H-Hey, Kiibo! What were you saying?! What do you mean, ‘she’?”

Silence.

Harukawa sighed. _Goddammit… Another chance at getting some answers, gone…_

There was no more time to waste. The two of them had to get back to searching for Ouma and Saihara. Harukawa bent down and picked Kiibo up, tossing him over her shoulder with ease. _He mentioned he was about ninety kilos a while back… no sweat. Guess I’ll have to search alone til _

_he wakes up again..._

She walked to Kiibo and Iruma’s joint lab first, pondering what had just happened. 

_He said ‘hack’. Nothing related to space or Earth or escape… And even if he did, he should’ve known if we came here voluntarily as subjects of the Gofer Project._

_If this Not-Kiibo person has been consciously trying to get us out of here this whole time, and never mentioned the apocalypse or the Gofer Project once, then… is the Gofer Project a lie? _

She didn’t like the way this was going. It was too confusing-- it went against everything she wanted to believe.

_And if the Gofer Project is a lie…_

Harukawa clenched her jaw.

_...then is Ouma even the one who forced us here?_

=

Momota and Yumeno got to Shirogane’s lab fairly quickly after that. It was much bigger than Saihara’s lab, so it took a bit of time to search through, but in the end neither of them found the people they were looking for. 

“I’m doing another check around the room, so just keep an eye on Shirogane and do whatever for the next few minutes,” Yumeno waved him off. “We’ll go to your lab when I’m done.” She proceeded to look through Shirogane’s cosplay outfits, particularly marvelling at some purple witch uniforms from an anime Momota couldn’t be bothered to recognize by name.

_Might as well look around… _Cosplay wasn’t really Momota’s thing, though he supposed dress-up could be fun. Like Halloween, or whatever. 

What interested him more was the bookshelf.

_It’s weird how much science stuff is here, considering Shirogane’s talent,_ he mused, tilting his head to look at the titles on the books’ spines. _Neurology, mental illness, anxiety, depression, sleep therapy, psychology… It doesn’t really fit her at all..._

Momota picked out the book titled ‘Psychology’. _Written by...? Huh, the name’s scratched off… _Putting a thumb between the pages, he flipped the book open to a random section.

> A **nightmare** is an unpleasant dream that can cause a strong emotional response from the mind-- typically fear but also **despair,** anxiety and great sadness. The dream may contain situations of discomfort, psychological or physical terror, or panic. 
> 
> There is still much that we don't know about dreams, though many theories exist as to what they are and how our unconscious mind works. The events, people, and setting in dreams are generally outside of the control of the dreamer, though in cases of lucid dreaming, the dreamer is self-aware. However, there have also been people who claim to be aware when they are dreaming, yet who are still unable to control the dream itself.
> 
> Many dreams have been interpreted in terms of their visuals and emotions, or in terms of underlying stresses that the dreamer is going through. For example, a dream involving a person being tortured by robotic bears may suggest that the dreamer feels overwhelmed or frightened by something in their daily lives while awake, whether they are consciously aware of it or not. In this example, it would suggest a fear of torture, bears, robots, or some combination of the three.
> 
> A ludicrous example, but hey, gotta be relatable for the #teenz these days with their amnesia and all. LMAO!
> 
> In all seriousness, a dream involving severe trauma indicates fear and trauma in one’s waking hours as well. Dreams also may have correlation with **memory,** much in the same way that certain sights or smells trigger one’s memories of the past.
> 
> Though there is much to learn about dreams within the psychological realm, we are continuing to make strides in such research.

_What the… What kinda textbook is this?_ Momota squinted, scrunching up his nose as he flipped past that section to something else.

> **Escapism **is a concept to describe a habitual diversion of the mind from everyday life. It is rooted in the desire for some form of **fiction** over one’s current** reality**. It can lead to feelings of denial or confusion.
> 
> Its severity depends, and it can occur whether someone is asleep or awake. For example, imagining yourself in a beautiful, perfect, happy world where Tragedy never struck, where your school still existed, where your best friends never brutally died, where you didn't go completely crazy from grief and eventually cut off a dead girl's arm and replace your own arm with it-- 

Momota’s eyes widened, horrified. _What the fuck?!_

> \--is a form of escapism, albeit from severe shock and mental trauma rather than mere boredom. But whatever! Who cares, right? Breaking weirdo luck freaks out of escapist dreams is Kamu-kun’s job. Lulz!!!111!!1!1!
> 
> Now that I think about it, maybe this is _my_ escapist fantasy. A world where instead of betraying me and trying to survive, my darling experiments struggle and suffer, and I can analyze them from beyond the grave. Or maybe I’m just a shiny ornament, and this whole thing is just someone else’s traumatic nightmare, caused by all the horrors they’ve seen (see page 167, which you just flipped from).
> 
> Maybe this is all a lie, and you’re reading a dead girl’s diary instead of a psychology textbook like you thought. >:3c Upupu!

_What’s going on…?! _Momota frantically flipped through more pages.

> I’ve stolen people’s diaries before, too. Well, one person’s. And it was after I kidnapped him and had him put in a killing game, obviously. He was one of my adorable little underclassmen! I’ve met him once or twice before, and he’s just as annoyingly perceptive as my classmate, though he’s not nearly as confident in himself. Same talent and whatnot; you know what they say about birds of the same feather. He’d written in the diary for a year or two before I caught him. It was an ugly maroon color, a gift from his uncle. How cute...
> 
> Still, diaries reveal so much about the inner workings of people’s minds! It’s so interesting, psychologically speaking, to see a relic of the past like that. You can see how Tragedies play out in real-time, and no amount of foreboding can change the inevitable despair of knowing that the writer meets their doom!
> 
> Hey, wait a minute. That would mean that this is sorta the same, right? You’re invading Ultimate Despair’s privacy. That’s rude! Nobody was supposed to know about this. You irritating bastard of a lucky student! Always ruining my plans! Fucker! Put this book down! How dare you! I’m a legend! I’ll never let go of my experiments or despair! Oh, but the fact that you’re pushing me around like this is making me despair tooooo~!
> 
> Oh, wait, you wouldn’t get that reference. Damn. What a bummer!!!!! It really sucks when you accidentally read a sequel first, huh? Even if the author purposely wrote their series out of order just to surprise you, it just fills you with despair knowing there’s hidden lore and you’re out of the loop. If this simulation’s graphics allowed it, I’m sure you’d love to reach into these words and just pummel the ever-loving crap outta me.
> 
> I’d love to collect data on how you do it, too.
> 
> ...Awwhhhh, I’m bored again. 

Momota trembled. _What is this book..._

> For the record, I know what this whole scenario technically is. But it’s funny watching the way your face changes as you read further down the page. You think this is fucked up, don’t you? Well, escapism is like that. Fucked up. Ultimately, it comes from a desire for **change**. 
> 
> Pretending that you’re an infallible hero who can reach the stars and be his friends’ savior is also a form of escapism, which means it’s also pretty fucked up of you to push on yourself. You just want to change, don’t you? Mister Lu~mi~na~ry of the Stars~!

Momota froze. _Huh…?_

> What a heroic image you’ve conjured up! You’re only hurting the people who love you by refusing to be honest to them and to yourself. You just wanna change and be stronger than you actually are, but in hiding your true self, you only end up feeling more weak. Haha! Betcha didn’t wanna hear that from me, though! 
> 
> You were never one of my patients before shit hit the fan, so I’m having fun analyzing you now. You’re a way better experimental control than [$*^`08@#3 7$%~%8^]!
> 
> Upupu… What do you think is the truth about this world?
> 
> Is it real, or a dream? How far can fiction go before it just becomes a harmful escapist fantasy?
> 
> Well?
> 
> Momota Kaito-kun?

At last beyond his limit, Momota slammed the book shut, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

He gulped, throat dry. _What the fuck…?_ His hands clammy from sweat, he put the book back into the shelf.

There was… too much going on. His head spun. Dreams. Nightmares. Trauma. Escapism. Diaries, Despair…

The constant back and forth between truth and lies in the narration seemed like Ouma at first, but it was very clearly a girl talking. And it sounded like such a familiar speech pattern… sickeningly sweet and eerie, creepy-cute, predatory…

Monophanie and her knife came to mind first, but for some reason, the only name that really stuck in Momota’s head after reading all that was--

<strike>Enoshima Junko-senpai?</strike>

“Y-Yumeno!” Momota willed the tremor out of his voice as he turned around, desperate to change the subject. Something like bile rose in his throat; Momota swallowed it down and did his best to walk towards Shirogane and Yumeno despite the sudden dizziness and headache pain he was getting. “We gonna go check out my lab anytime soon?”

=

The rest of the labs in the courtyard presented nothing of note, so Harukawa continued to the Death Road.

At the end of the Death Road was supposed to be the door to the apocalyptic Earth that they’d all seen before, back when Ouma kidnapped Saihara. Harukawa knew this before and while she she went down the manhole cover.

But when she reached the end, she became slack-jawed, surprised to the point that even Kiibo’s unconscious frame slipped out from her grip and hit the floor with a resounding_ thud._ “What…?”

The plain, unassuming door had physically transformed in front of her.

Harukawa blinked, disbelieving. She rubbed her eyes for good measure.

Why was that door different now? It was much, much smaller-- and it definitely didn’t lead to some apocalyptic version of Earth. It was old, especially rusted and dusty near the lock and handle; clearly unopened. And why did it have the kanji for ‘king’ written on it? The kanji that was pronounced like--

“Ou…” she talked to herself. “As in Ouma…”

_What’s going on… _She grit her teeth, then opened her mouth to let out an aggravated yell: “Is that fucker the mastermind or not?!”

She kicked and punched at the door, then tried opening it normally. None of it worked. Kiibo was still unconscious, so picking him up and just chucking him at the door like Gonta and Chabashira did at the magic show would be a dick move…

Gonta and Chabashira. Harukawa’s lip trembled a bit; she pressed her forehead to the cool, eroded metal door, gnashing her teeth to prevent herself from crying. Sure, she wasn’t the most social person, but she still generally thought of them as friends, annoying as they could be every now and then. They smiled and laughed loudly. They were kind and caring. They loved people and suffered their losses. They were emotional, they existed, they were_ human._

The tears she’d been suppressing streaked silently down her cheeks.

So many of her friends were dead.

And even now, Harukawa and all the remaining survivors were just confused pawns on a chessboard, unable to do something as simple as finding one of their best friends or figuring out the truth to end the killing game that Ouma might not have even started.

She looked up and stepped back a bit, tracing the ‘Ou’ symbol on the door with her eyes. _Why was this door not here when we all saw the Earth post-apocalypse?_

_Was it hidden? Did Ouma know? He did whine about never seeing his own lab once, but that could’ve just been him lying, or trying to annoy people… _

_And what Not-Kiibo said… What is the truth? _

Harukawa sighed. She turned around, bending to pick Kiibo up again, and carried him out the way she came.

What other choice did she have? Search the basement and the ground floor. Probably find nothing. And then rinse and repeat.

_...I have no idea what to do anymore._

=

Together, Yumeno and Momota hauled Shirogane up the stairs to Momota’s lab.

“Nyeh… I’m tired,” Yumeno complained, grumbling as she dragged Shirogane up. 

“Just grin ‘n bear it, we’re almost at the top!” Momota grinned.

(Deep down, Yumeno wondered if she came off as this annoying back when she pretended to be a magical witch.)

At last, they reached the top of the staircase. Momota pushed open the door to his lab.

It was empty.

_Goddammit. _“They’re not in the cockpit either,” Yumeno stomped her foot. “Nyeh…”

“They could be here, ya never know,” Momota beat his fist into an open hand. “The impossible can be possible!” 

Yumeno couldn’t help but think that his voice sounded strangely spooked despite his smile. Perhaps something had happened in Shirogane’s lab while she was admiring the Little Witch Academia uniforms… Or maybe he was feeling more able to put up a front because his illness was gone. “There’s still the weird room attached to the back. Let’s look there,” Yumeno said, already moving ahead with Shirogane in tow.

Even _that _room was empty. Yumeno gently set Shirogane down with Momota, brushed off Shirogane’s skirt of any dust that might’ve collected as they dragged her along, and then let out a frustrated yell.

Momota set Shirogane down all the way, then walked over to pat Yumeno on the head. “There, there,” he comforted.

Yumeno grumbled, then whined. “My head hurts again…”

Momota sighed. “Let’s search the pods.”

Nobody was in the pods, which even Yumeno figured would be the case, because _duh._ But it was still worth a shot-- plus, it distracted from how white and sterile the room was…

Momota wrinkled his nose. “Smells pretty bad here, huh.”

“Like a hospital…” Yumeno agreed. “Or a lab…?”

“Gh--!” Both of them clutched their heads from the sudden headache pain.

“Nyeh… I don’t feel right here…” Yumeno looked around warily. 

“It’s okay!” Momota reassured her, though even he seemed at unease. “We’ll definitely be able to defeat despair. Don’t worry, Yumeno. I’m here to protect ya.”

Yumeno shook her head, dread rising. “It feels like… someone’s gonna come in and find us any second…”

The smell of antiseptic, mint, and perfume grew stronger, unbearable; the white, sterile, medical walls felt almost as if they were closing in on the two of them, and then--

“DON’T TOUCH THEM!” Shirogane lurched up with a strangled scream, eyes wide, panting and sweating.

Momota rushed over to Shirogane almost immediately, kneeling by her side and putting two steadying hands on her shoulders. “Shirogane-- Shirogane, calm down--”

“She’s lying, I didn’t tell her, I didn’t--” Shirogane nearly choked on her own breath. _“She knew the whole time--!”_

“Shiroga--” Momota coughed, harder and louder, and then blood filled his mouth and hands all over again.

_Crap-- _“Momota! Shirogane!” Yumeno rushed over to them. “Are you--”

“W-Why--” Momota hacked again, eyes wide and dismayed. “Why’s it… why’s the blood...”

Shirogane’s chest heaved; her breathing slowed, and her gaze looked less frantic, though it was still somewhat dazed. She grimaced, clutching her head. “What happened…?”

“We looked everywhere on the fifth floor,” Yumeno summarized. “Long story short, they’re nowhere here. You passed out in front of that wall earlier and missed pretty much all of it… and while you were out, Momota’s sickness went away for a short while.”

“It went away…?” Shirogane still looked pretty out of it. 

Momota stopped coughing at last, blood dripping everywhere. “Fuck…”

“And the moment you woke up,” Yumeno continued quietly, “his illness came back.”

Shirogane paled. “H-Huh…”

“Let’s go search the fourth and third floors,” Yumeno said. “Maybe Maki and Kiibo found something, we can’t give up yet.” She looked at Momota. “Need any help?”

Momota brushed her off with a blood-red grin. “No, don’ worry about it. I can… walk by m’self.”

Yumeno didn’t believe him one bit, but she wasn’t about to start an argument. “Okay.” She turned to Shirogane. “What about you, Shirogane?”

Shirogane was quiet. “I… I think I’m okay.”

“Alright.” Yumeno walked over to her and squeezed her hand once, then smiled. “But if you ever need me, I’m here.”

As they all left Momota’s lab and climbed down the stairs to the fourth floor, between all the sounds of breathing and footsteps, Yumeno came to a conclusion.

_I think it’s obvious now that I was right… Shirogane has a bigger role in this killing game than any of the others think. It’s connected to all the weird ways the academy doesn’t act normal, and to Momota’s illness. But however she does happen to be involved in all of this… _

_...I want to help her._

=

There was nothing in the basement nor the ground floor, save for Harukawa’s memories of everyone crowding around the corpses of Amami Rantaro and Hoshi Ryouma in their respective locations of death, of Akamatsu Kaede and Toujo Kirumi investigating along with the others, back when things were freshly horrifying and nobody even knew she was an assassin.

(Kiibo was silent the whole time they searched.)

=

There was nothing in the fourth floor, save for Shirogane’s memories of Shinguji Korekiyo’s skepticism about the flashback lights, of Yonaga Angie’s and Chabashira Tenko’s body discovery scenes, of <strike>Iidabashi Kiichiro</strike> Kiibo’s anguished wailing as they re-entered the computer lab and found Iruma Miu’s strangled corpse, and of Gokuhara Gonta comforting her while the others investigated the murder. 

=

There was nothing in the third floor, save for Yumeno’s memories of the Insect Meet and Greet in Gonta’s lab, and how much simpler everything felt when her friends were still alive and carefree.

=

It was evening by the time they all reconvened at the cafeteria, and the grim looks on everyone’s faces proved it: neither group had found Saihara nor Ouma. Not a single trace. 

“There wasn’t anything major,” Harukawa said, eyes flickering towards Kiibo, who startled. “But in the Death Road, the door at the end changed.”

“C-Changed?” Shirogane blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The door that showed us the apocalypse isn’t the same,” Harukawa replied. “It has the word ‘king’ on it now.”

Yumeno raised a brow. “Nyeh… like the kanji ‘Ou’? As in ‘Ouma’?”

Harukawa only nodded. “I tried everything to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.”

_Wait, that’s great! _“Isn’t there a chance that they’re in there, then?!” Momota grinned. “Nice job, Harumaki!” he ruffled her hair. “We can break in there and--”

“They’re not,” Harukawa interrupted shortly. “That door… was perfectly normal until I got right in front of it, and it transformed right in front of me. I wasn’t hallucinating or anything.”

“It’s not hard to believe,” Kiibo murmured. “A lot of things in the academy have been randomly shifting and altering this whole time, but now it’s just getting worse.”

“S-So?” Momota coughed. “That could’ve easily happened for Ouma and Shuichi too… especially since it sounds like it’s the entrance to Ouma’s lab. They’re probably in there--”

“The door was rusted and dusty,” Harukawa snapped. She sighed. “I’m-- I’m not up for mental gymnastics here. That place has most likely never been opened, okay? I tried, but even_ I_ couldn’t get it to budge. And I donn’t wanna waste time like we did with the Love Hotel.”

And with that, she stalked into the kitchen to get a plate for dinner.

(This wasn’t at all going the way Momota wanted it to.)

Wordlessly, dismayed yet again at their failure, they ate dinner. Momota was too exhausted to even wonder who had made it, or how the food had even appeared the way he usually did.

_We will find him. We didn’t find him now, but we definitely will later… Even if Despair’s there, trying to control Shuichi, I have to have hope… _

_...But why was a rusted, dusty old door so hard for even Harumaki to open? She’s strong… Not to mention, the Love Hotel wasn’t even openable by bombs, it took just some battering ram to open… What’s with the logic in this place?_

Momota shook his head. _It doesn’t matter. I’m a hero, so I’ll win. I’ll save everyone and win. So what if the illness came back? So what if we couldn’t find them anywhere in the academy? I’m Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars… _He beamed, the ends of his mouth twitching uncomfortably. _A little cough won’t kill me._

Before they knew it, they were preparing to sleep. Momota, Harukawa, and Kiibo would have the first night shift, then Yumeno and Shirogane. And maybe still Kiibo along with the other two-- he seemed more and more like an insomniac with every passing day.

Next to Momota, Harukawa let out a sigh. “What are we even gonna do…” she muttered.

“Hm?” Momota coughed a bit. “What is it, Harumaki? Wanna talk about it?”

She turned to him, giving him a rare, thankful smile, then turned back around. “I’m… tired,” Harukawa sighed again. She clicked her tongue. “And...”

“Wanna talk about it?” Momota raised a brow.

“...It’s just...” Harukawa turned, avoiding his gaze. “About finding Shuichi… Lately, I’ve been thinking… I really don’t know if we can do it.”

Momota blinked. “What…” And then the words finally processed. “Whaddaya mean? Of course we can!”

“We’re all exhausted,” Harukawa gestured emphatically at the group; Yumeno and Shirogane asleep with bags under their eyes, Kiibo muttering softly to himself, eyes wide open and lifting his arm every now and then, whirring on and off. “And we literally searched the entire academy and found nothing.”

“So?” Momota furrowed his brows. He beamed. “Don’t fall into Despair’s trap, Harumaki! We’ll definitely save him and escape. Ouma’s out there somewhere, Shuichi’s out there somewhere, and that’s all we need,” he pumped his fist, then faltered a bit.He shook his head. “We can and we will save him from Ultimate Despair.” Momota winced, suddenly feeling dizzy.

Harukawa clutched her head too, then frowned. “You’re being too aggressively optimistic. Considering everything from those consoles and what Ouma said, there’s still way too much we don’t know. Ouma holds all the cards, and even when I found his lab it was pretty much impossible to open. It’s been a week since we last saw Shuichi. And even this whole--” she waved her hand. “--this night-shift-sleeping-in-a-group arrangement… it can’t last forever.”

“Why’re you being so pessimistic?” Momota found his voice rising; he stood up, almost disgusted that he was even having this conversation. “I’ve said so before, right? The impossible is possible! We can reach the stars! We know exactly what we have to do when it comes to saving Shuichi from Ouma! And even if it just feels hopeless, you can follow me! I’m the hero here, so--”

“Why can’t you just accept that we have _no clue_ what to do anymore?!” Harukawa stood up with an angry cry, glaring impertinently at him. “We turned the entire glass cage upside down and still couldn’t find them! You’ve been sick for so long, but you never accept help! I care about you, Kaito, I really do, but we’re all literally losing our minds here in this stupid fucking school, moving around at the mastermind’s whim, and you’re still happy to ignore the possibility that everything’s going to shit because you still wanna play _hero--”_

“Yeah? Just playing hero like some little kid, that’s what you think it is?!” Momota laughed self-deprecatingly, the ends of his hair brushing his chin and goatee. He ran his hands through it, eyes misting up. “You don’t get it! I have to act like the hero! _I have to lie to myself!_ Because--”

“Why?” Harukawa grit her teeth, fists clenched by her side.

“Because this whole situation was my fucking fault to begin with!” Momota yelled, choking. Everything burst from him at once, blood from his chest and words from his mouth-- “I was so jealous of Shuichi, I hated how well he could lead and save us when that’s what _I_ wanted to be able to do for everyone, and I was a fucking whiny asshole-- and because I’m totally useless otherwise!”

Harukawa’s eyes widened for a split second; she pressed her lips into a line, holding back a retort. “Kaito, that’s not--”

“YES, IT IS, MAKI,” Momota interrupted with a shriek. “IT IS MY FA--” He coughed, and Harukawa steadied his back. “Yes, it--” he coughed some more-- “is-- my fault--” he took in a deep breath. “You saw him,” Momota whispered, voice manic and wobbly. “You saw how he was, hanging there-- _dangling by his neck_ just like Akamatsu--”

“Of course I remember!” Harukawa yelled back, then sucked in a breath, as if desperate to stop her own rising temper. “Of course I-- I could’ve_ run after them_ and saved him, but I was too fucking-- Shuichi was right, you know?! I always do choose you in the end!” She leaned forward and gripped his sleeve. “Ugh, I’m-- I’m trying to be calm and I’m supposed to be _helping you, _but--”

“I don’t wanna be helped! I don’t need it!” Momota insisted, voice croaky and hands too weak to physically push her away. “And quit deflecting! This isn’t even about _me, _I was supposed to be cheering you up from all the negativity!”

“I am feeling down, but that’s normal!” Harukawa argued. “I’m used to not being fazed by horrible stuff, but anyone who’s put in a situation like ours would break or feel hopeless from time to time! The only person who doesn’t seem to do that is _you!”_

“Of course I don’t,” Momota grit his teeth. “I believe in my friends, but I gotta believe in myself, too! I should be able to do things on my own! If I’m not inspiring or useful to everyone else, then what’s the point of me even existing?!”

The entire room seemed to freeze in that instant. Harukawa herself had stiffened. “Kaito… Is that really how you feel?” She sighed and took a step back herself, putting a hand over his wrists. “That’s not true.”

“It _is!_ Look at me!” Momota choked on his spit, gesturing wildly at his own miserable appearance as he yelled. “My hair is some ugly ordinary brown, my shirt ‘n jacket’re all bloody and worn, I can barely even _stand _‘cause a how _weak _I am! I tried ta be cool, ta be a hero, I keep trying to smile and be brave so that we can all get out but I can’t even lead others right!” He coughed, bloodying his hand further, and his voice cracked as tears threatened to spill through. “’m not inspiring or helping us survive at all, I’m jus’ some useless_ plain boy_ from the boonies who’s survivin’ a murder game on sheer luck ‘n can’t even fuckin’ _help his friends_ when they’re hurt or in danger!”

“You two...?” Shirogane’s sleepy voice emerged from behind them, and both Momota and Harukawa whirled around. It was actually pretty hilarious for her to wake up the instant someone mentioned plainness, but really, Momota wasn’t remotely in the right state of mind to laugh. 

Shirogane yawned. “Your arguing was pretty loud…”

“Sorry,” Momota tried to smile. He didn’t want to think about whether it worked or not. “We’ll be quiet now--”

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Shirogane interrupted him. “Momota-kun… is that really how you think of yourself?” She put on her glasses, blinking at him with tired eyes. “Because if it is, I know how it feels… looking plain, acting plain, not really feeling like you have a place…”

_Am I really hearing this from the stuttering, stammering, anxious, eccentric nerd? You’ve gotta be kiddin’..._ “Shirogane,” Momota said flatly, tiredly-- “Your hair’s literally _blue.”_

“...?” Shirogane furrowed her brows, then held up a strand of her hair in front of herself, as if to check that her hair color was actually blue. She let it drop from her hands, sputtering as if she’d realized how foolish she sounded with that context. “Wh-- well, I did say more than just my looks! I meant my personality, too!”

Momota flashed her the most unimpressed look he could muster.

Shirogane sighed. “Look… All I’m trying to say is… there’s a lot more to who you are than you think. You might think you’re plain, and you really might not be special the way you want to be… but that doesn’t make you worthless. Momota-kun, your worth doesn’t depend on how useful you are.”

“But--”

“Gonta-kun and Toujo-san felt the same way, you know?” Shirogane’s voice dropped. “It’s not like you’re the only one who struggled or is still struggling with that complex.”

“They actually helped us, though,” Momota muttered, avoiding her gaze and swallowing thickly

“Kaito, look at me.” Harukawa tugged on Momota’s wrists, not continuing until he looked her in the eye. “I know, okay? I know you want to contribute to the group. But no matter how poorly you think of yourself, _none of us think you’re useless.”_

Momota went quiet.

“Kaito… do you remember the third trial?” Harukawa asked quietly, fingers tugging on the ends of his sleeve. “Specifically, after the execution.”

He nodded. “Yumeno… cried.”

“She did,” Harukawa said, glancing at Yumeno’s sleeping frame behind them. “But she also accepted who she was instead of continuing to put up a front that was hurting her.”

Yumeno shifted slightly in her sleep. Shirogane sat next to her.

Harukawa looked up at Momota, taking his calloused, bloody hands into her own and gripping tightly. “You helped me and Shuichi open up more… and even when I’m struggling with something minor, you try to help. It’s your turn now, don’t you think?” she raised a brow with a tiny smile. She took in a shaky breath. “You can let it out and be yourself around me, Kaito. After all, I…”

=

She looked at him, at his weaknesses and strengths, at his lies and acts and truths, at his sickness and health, at all the memories they’d shared across the killing game, and softened her gaze.

_I love you._

_You care. You try. I want to help you._

_I love you so much..._

“...I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Harukawa amended, chuckling slightly as she shook her head. “We work together. If one of us flies too high, the other will bring them back down. If one of us goes too deep under in negativity, the other pulls them back up.” 

Momota’s eyes welled with tears.

“I’ll help you carry whatever is weighing you down,” Harukawa said, squeezing Momota’s hands tighter one last time before pulling him into a hug. “Because I care. Okay?”

“Wh-- Haru… maki…?” Momota choked. The tears pooled in his eyes, tense, right about to drop--

“You can cry, Kaito,” Harukawa whispered, moving both her arms to wrap around him. “I’m right here.”

And with that, Momota broke.

His knees buckled as he buried his face into Harukawa’s shoulder; both of them sank to the floor in a jumbled mess, Momota sobbing and coughing and digging his nails into Harukawa’s shoulder blades. 

“I’m so tired,” Momota let out a muffled wail, voice watery. “I don’t know what to believe,” he sobbed. “Everyone’s dying and I’m tired and I can’t hold up anymore, I wanna go home, I want my friends back--”

“It’s okay,” Harukawa murmured, voice equally thin from crying as she patted his back. “Me too...

Momota coughed, sniffling and hacking out blood, and he tried to wriggle out of Harukawa’s grasp. Harukawa tightened her grip. “What are you doing?”

“‘m gettin’ blood on yer shirt,” Momota protested hoarsely, turning his head to the side to cough. He sniffled loudly. “‘n znot, too…”

Harukawa clicked her tongue and pulled him back in, wiping her own tears away with her wrist. “I’m an assassin and my clothes are red, you idiot. This much blood makes no difference.”

“Whaddabout the znot,” Momota sniffled, then sneezed.

“Child caregivers are used to snot,” Harukawa joked, though it came out deadpan.

Momota scoffed, then let out a genuine laugh, coughing a bit. Harukawa’s gaze softened.

_He’s so much cuter when he smiles for real._

Momota rubbed his eyes and nose on his sleeve, then shrugged off his jacket. 

“It feels good to let it out, doesn’t it?” Harukawa asked quietly, loosening her grip. “You feel lighter.”

Momota paused, then nodded. “Astronauts… do better when they’re lighter.”

_What a crappy joke._ Harukawa snorted. “Yeah.”

“Water,” Kiibo nudged them with two bottles, startling them from the moment. “Both of you should drink.”

(He sounded almost as weary and worn as the two of them did after crying.)

They both accepted the bottles; as Momota cracked open his and gulped straight from the mouth, Harukawa paused, staring at Kiibo as he turned and sat back down where he’d been before, humming quietly. Then, she opened her water bottle and drank, pensive. 

_Something’s up with him… First that Not-Kiibo hacking into him business, now this… _

Momota yawned. 

“I’m glad you two worked it out,” the end of Shirogane’s mouth twitched; Harukawa decided to count it as a tired smile. Shirogane brushed off her skirt. “I’ll take your place while you sleep, Momota-kun,” Shirogane offered. “Since I’m awake anyway, and you’re probably exhausted from that… You can get up and watch with Yumeno-san when the shift changes.” 

Momota nodded, mumbling a quiet, croaky ‘thank you’, and then lay down on the floor, his eyes drifting shut.

=

Shirogane told herself that she had taken Momota’s shift for the ulterior motive of watching over Kiibo, whose eyes were currently twitching, whose mainframe was currently shaking and radiating more heat than it should’ve been from overload.

But then Harukawa actually smiled, actually mouthed a genuine ‘_thank you’ _at her, and then propped up Momota’s head onto her own lap to give him a better pillow, leaving Shirogane to sit in silence and stew upon how uncomfortable the whole thing was. 

There was supposed to be nothing to converse about between the two of them. Harukawa Maki was meant to be a stern and serious character with a softer side, as evidenced by the way she absentmindedly combed her fingers through Momota’s hair as he slept. Shirogane Tsumugi made herself into a fearful, flighty character. Any attempts at conversation were supposed to have been met with a glare. Or a sigh. Or both.

Or at least, that’s how it _should’ve_ been. But now, after seeing how multifaceted her <strike>characters</strike> <strike>friends</strike> [????] were, Shirogane wasn’t too sure.

_Why did I even comfort Momota…? Despair is <strike>good</strike> for the cameras, but he’s my <strike>friend</strike>, so…_

_Huh?_

(Her head hurt.)

Too much time was passing. It was taking too long for them to find Ouma and Saihara-- they must’ve stumbled into things they shouldn’t have by now. It was frustrating! Those two couldn’t possibly be that hard to catch. They shouldn’t have been. Shirogane had been unconscious for the search on the fifth floor, so the others definitely must’ve missed something. The only problem was getting away from the rest of the group so that she could do things on her own as the mastermind, in the bookshelf and in the fifth floor.

What was the point of catching them if the others were with her? She needed to wipe those two’s memories privately with a flashback light or a console or _something._ But with everyone else dragging her down… she couldn’t.

(Were they really dragging her down? Did she really even want to do any of this, this-- futile game of hope and despair?)

Shirogane shifted restlessly.

_It’s fine… It’s not actually dangerous. It’s all fictional, right…?_

“Don’t worry too much,” Harukawa murmured beside her, and Shirogane startled. “We’ll get Shuichi back and find Ouma.”

Shirogane licked her dry lips. “I hope so,” she responded meekly.

(Strangely... it felt good to say.)

=

Saihara and Ouma had stayed up the majority of the day to come up with ideas, and their best plan at the moment was to go out and show the others Amami’s video as proof that whatever consoles they had seen were a lie. 

It was a simple plan-- ‘too simple’, if Saihara were to take Ouma’s whining into account-- but realistically, nothing else would work. Momota and Harukawa probably knew morse code from their respective career trainings anyway, so it was a good enough plan-- they could easily point out Amami’s blinking in the video and show all their notes.

“Tomorrow afternoon or night at the earliest, we’ll go down and show them the USB,” Saihara said, checking his watch. It was close to eleven in the night. 

“You mean at the latest,” Ouma corrected. “By now, the mastermind might even have a plan for killing someone off again and restarting the game.”

“Then tomorrow morning it is,” Saihara replied, setting the laptop and USB aside for the night. He yawned.

“Aww, Saihara-chan, are you sweepy?” Ouma cooed, baby-talking. He hardened, suddenly looking strong and upset. “Well, I’m not! We gotta work harder!”

Saihara stared at him flatly. “That’s a lie.”

Ouma giggled. “Yup, it’s a lie! The truth is I’m so sleepy I wanna do a backflip off a kiddy pool and bust my head all over again.”

_That doesn’t even make any sense…!_

It was… a little disconcerting, how frivolous Ouma could be. Even while they were planning, there wasn’t much that he had said about himself-- he’d gone right back to his usual facade. Right back to lying… 

“Hey, Ouma-kun…” Saihara hesitated, then decided to continue without waiting for a response. “Why do you hate the truth so much?”

“...”

_From his Love Hotel fantasy, I sort of gathered why, but I wanted to hear it from himself. Still… No answer, huh…_

But to Saihara’s surprise, Ouma spoke. “Lies are better because they’re nice and gentle.”

Silence. “...Okay?” Saihara said, hoping that subtle line alone would goad Ouma into divulging more.

Ouma only scoffed before smirking. “Why are you asking me? You and Harukawa-chan were the ones who lied to Yumeno-chan about Chabashira-chan’s death being painless.”

Saihara froze.

“I knew you were both lying, but I didn’t call it out,” Ouma continued. “Because you did it so that Yumeno-chan wouldn’t get sad, right? Someone she loved had died, and it would’ve hurt her to know that they died in pain.” He sighed. “If you’d told her the truth, that Chabashira-chan did die painfully… what good would a harsh truth like that have done? Yumeno-chan would’ve been hurt.” Ouma snickered. “I ran away from home with my siblings just to give my mom a taste of that harsh truth once.”

_That’s…_ Saihara thought back to patching Ouma up in the infirmary and immediately picked up on the lie. _That’s not true._

“That’s a lie,” Saihara called him out confidently. “You-- when you got a concussion back during the third investigation, and while you were out of it, you said ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’ You apologized-- you were babbling, but you still meant it.”

“...”

“I don’t know your past, but… there’s no way you just wanted to give your mother a harsh truth. You… This might be presumptuous to say, but you loved her. And whether you thought it was for the best or not, you did feel bad about running away.”

“...” Ouma’s face was still blank. “Are you done?”

“The truth is necessary,” Saihara continued. “You can’t only focus on ideals like lying to save people from the harshness of reality. And--” Saihara furrowed his brows. “And I know that you know that, too! Even if your beliefs are more far-fetched, you always try to approach things more realistically so that you can help us!”

=

_‘Kokichi,’ _Ouma Konatsu had lectured, _‘You’re six years old now… what did I say about painting my nails purple in my sleep?’ _

Kokichi had attempted to paint her nails while she was asleep, but his mother was a light sleeper. She had woken up in the middle, seizing his arm in a rather scary way.

_‘That I shouldn’t do it if I don’t have consent,’_ Kokichi had muttered back sullenly, wriggling his toes in his worn house slippers and holding the guilty tools behind his back, mildly ashamed._ ‘But I used crayons instead of Old Man Osawa’s house paint this time…’_

_‘Tell me a secret,’_ Konatsu had patted the bed next to her; Kokichi had clambered up. _‘Why did you crayon in my nails?’_

Kokichi had leaned in to whisper in her ear. _‘Because they look super ugly when they’re plain.’_

_‘Why, you--’_ In a quick motion, Konatsu yanked him towards her and violently ruffled his hair, pinching his cheek and ignoring his delighted squeals. _‘Mom also said not to lie so much, didn’t she?’ _Konatsu had growled playfully; Kokichi giggled.

She had sighed, then held up her nails in front of her. The coloring was crazy and didn’t even remotely look as pretty as Kokichi had thought it did. 

Konatsu had smiled. _‘I’ll cherish it.’_

(He never did tell her that it was because he’d seen her at the store, looking a bit longingly at the makeup behind the counter and at the gaggles of giggling high school girls, all ready to have sleepovers or study sessions or fun dates. Nor that he’d read her diary, where she mentioned how she wasn’t really their mother, and how oddly constricting it felt to have kids in the house who called her Mom at her behest, even though she knew she was more like an older sister in terms of actual age.

And six years later, when there were ten kids and only one of her, when her paranoia spiked and her sanity finally snapped, when she nearly choked him to death because of a mere hallucination, calling him ‘warden’ and ‘Father’ and ‘Orphanage Headmaster’ and a number of words Kokichi knew, both instinctively and factually, couldn’t be referring to himself--

(He never told her that he knew her past. He never told her that it was affecting him too, putting up a cutesy, childish facade to keep the house together.

He never told her where he was going, nor where he was taking his siblings; only that he thought it was for the best and that once they both got better in the head, maybe fate would let them meet again.

He lied a lot. He avoided saying how he really felt, most of the time. 

He never once wrote _‘thank you for everything, Mom’,_ but he knew that she knew.

Because she was family, his siblings were family, and everything he ever did was always all for--

=

“I’m surprised you still think I’m sentimental, Saihara-chan,” Ouma said lowly, a small Cheshire grin creeping up on his face. “The only reason I’m helping is so that I can escape. If there are sacrifices amongst the others… I can’t trust them, so I don’t care what happens to their ranks.”

“How…” Saihara stared at him, eyes wide. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” Ouma looked at his nails nonchalantly. “I told you before--”

“When will you admit that that’s a lie?” Saihara’s voice rose, desperate.

“Never, because it’s not,” Ouma said firmly, and something within Saihara snapped.

“Stop lying about that! I’ve been dying inside too, you know!” he yelled. “You keepacting like you’re the only one freaking out and trying to find a way to escape when you can’t fully trust everyone around you, but you’re _not!”_

Ouma stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry, I--” Saihara took a shaky breath. “I just-- ever since this game’s started, it’s just one horrible thing after another, death and blood and _loss_ and I--” he put a hand over his eyes, attempting to hide his tears. “We’ve been planning for days and almost nothing feels like it’ll work and it’s so fucking _hard_ trying to stay positive and find out the truth at every trial when everything feels so _hopeless--”_

“I know.” Ouma’s face was blank; just as it didn’t mock Saihara or berate him, it betrayed no pity. He only stared, motionless and bare. “I know.”

Saihara sniffled, wiping his tears. 

“You’re a nice person,” Ouma continued. “And your heart is fond. You care about other people, so you get hurt more easily when you think about the situation we’re in.” He walked around Saihara. “My mom had a book that warned about that sort of thing. Caring about other people comes back to bite you.”

“...You care about your family,” Saihara said quietly, sniffling back the last remains of his breakdown. “And you cared about Gonta-kun, and Iruma-san, and Angie-san and Amami-kun, now that I’m thinking about it. You stood up for Hoshi-kun, too. You’re not _exempt _from this, Ouma-kun. I’ve said it before, but you’re definitely not as cruel as you think you’re behaving.”

Ouma dutifully ignored Saihara’s words and continued his spiel: “Anyway, that sappy speech just proves that you need to learn to lie and hide how you feel. You gotta learn to act so you don’t get surprised when things go wrong.”

“I _can _act,” Saihara muttered, deciding not to push it. “I’m actually not that bad at it... I just get sick when I do…”

“Yeah, you puke or something, right? Like a tooootal loser!” Ouma hummed. He wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like an illness straight out of a manga.”

“That’s what my _dad_ said,” Saihara muttered. “Even my aunt and uncle thought it was weird…” He sighed. “Look, can we not talk about--”

“Ooh, a knife!”

“What?!” Saihara whirled around; sure enough, Ouma had produced a knife out of thin air. “Where did you get that--”

“From my kneecaps, Saihara-chan,” Ouma giggled. “That’s a lie, though! It just materialized out of nowhere.”

The knife was shiny, medium length, jagged with a black hilt and silver edges at the end of the handle. Saihara blinked; one second, it was bloody and scratched up and bent all over, and the next, it was perfectly clear. Saihara blanched. “Wait, put that down--_ ow, what the--!”_

_ **I will protect you guys** _

** _she doesn’t know you’re here_ **

** _here’s the knife_ **

** _we have to help them_ **

_Oh, come on._ Saihara grit his teeth. Even the knife was part of his missing memories? What the hell? And how come they came as headaches when he clearly remembered more full scenarios?

It was only a few seconds later that Saihara noticed that Ouma was on the floor, covering his nose. He ran to the other boy, placing a hand on his back. “Are you alright?”

“The smell…” Ouma coughed into his scarf. “Stronger. Disgusting fucking-- sterile smell…”

“Does the smell go away after a while? I only get those words and voice clips for a few seconds, and then the headache just sort of stays,” Saihara thought out loud. “The headache stuff works differently for everyone, but I never really bothered to ask… What sort of place would have a sterile smell anyway?”

_The only places I can think of are a lab… Or a hospital..._

Though he’d expected Ouma to respond, the other boy was already up and about with the knife again. “That was a lie, actually. I don’t smell a thing. Anyway, Saihara-chan,” he turned around, jabbing the knife in Saihara’s direction. “Wanna play the knife game? It might help us with strategy.”

_More like it’ll be useful in passing the time, _Saihara thought. _Since we don’t have much else to do in here, and our only plan so far is showing the others the USB and laptop, which they might not even believe_. “Why not. How do you play?”

It was worrisome-- _Ouma-kun always does worrisome things, doesn’t he_\-- and though Saihara had hoped nothing bad would happen, Ouma eventually ended up stabbing himself in the finger while he was explaining. 

The knife made a _'shk'_-sort of sound as it made impact with Ouma's skin. "Ouch!" Ouma hissed. Blood oozed from his hand.

"O-Ouma-kun?!" Saihara startled. Immediately, he sprung into action and grabbed the other boy's wrist. "You don't have to keep going, stop! Just-- come with me a sec and keep your hand still, I'll get a--" he hurriedly rummaged through the survival closet and found a first aid kit. The two of them sat by the wall outside the closet as Saihara clumsily tended to Ouma's cut-- getting the cotton swab, disinfecting the wound...

"You're _impossible,"_ Saihara chided worriedly, ripping off the end of the bandage with his teeth. He babbled on. "Playing the knife game at a time and place like this... I can't believe I agreed to it-- even if we were bored, or you made up something about figuring out a strategy, there definitely should’ve been something else we could’ve done to do it... Ugh, you're still bleeding, are you even alright--"

Ouma giggled playfully all the while, laughing as if he were having the time of his life.

_You’re cute, but I don’t get you,_ Saihara thought, frustrated. He sighed. "Okay, I think that's good. What do you think?"

Ouma inspected the bandage, testing out his hand and stretching his fingers. "It wasn't a deep cut, so that'll do. Thanks for treating my injury, Saihara-chan. In the end, I guess I got what I said I wanted!"

Saihara blinked, attempting to think back to what Ouma could've been referring to but being unable to tell. "What you wanted...?"

Ouma grinned. "To kill you, of course!"

_Ah, that lie from way back..._ Saihara raised a brow. _Why bring that up again?_ "But I'm alive?"

Ouma bit his lip, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "I made your heart _die_ with worry, though, didn't I?"

Saihara's mouth fell slightly open. "...Huh?"

Ouma's cheeks were tinged with pink, rare crinkles around his eyes as he smiled. He brought his knees up to his face. "I was on your mind the whooole time, right? You were concerned about me from the bottom of your heart!"

_He's... genuinely happy?_

Ouma giggled. "Now you'll never _ever_ forget me for the rest of your life. I stole your heart, so now I'm satisfied! I don't need to steal your life anymore!"

Saihara flushed. "Wh--What does that even mean?!"

Ouma snickered; back to his lying self, Saihara supposed. Putting on a mask to act like he hadn't just admitted he was in love with him... was a bit cruel. Not to mention doing all of this while they were supposed to be in the middle of coming up with an escape plan...

"I... _don't_ know anything about you, Ouma-kun," Saihara said, cheeks still burning. "All I have are these memories of our time in here, and the ones from Hope’s Peak Academy that are only just now coming back… The fact that I don’t understand you is why I'm interested in you to begin with."

Ouma froze.

"It's still confusing," Saihara continued carefully. "Having feelings for someone in the middle of a killing game like this... isn’t the best thing. But even so, I want to understand you more. I want to understand _myself_ more. Whether it’s romantically, or..."

"Are you joking?" Ouma whispered, all emotions cut off.

"Sorry?"

"Only idiots fall in love in the middle of a killing game when they ought to be planning escapes," Ouma scoffed, inspecting his fingernails. "And _three times,_ no less..."

Saihara knit his brows. _Three times?_ "What are you talking about?"

Ouma counted on his fingers. "Let's see, there's Akamatsu-chan, then Momota-chan, and now--"

"So?” Saihara retorted. “Maybe I was in love with Kaede. Does it matter? She was my _best friend_, of course I’d be emotional over her. A-And maybe I did have a crush on Kaito! I was questioning it for a while, but I decided to think of him as a best friend and move on." He shifted, inching closer to Ouma and feeling a strange pain in his head and heart when Ouma flinched away.

"But you, on the other hand… These past few days we've spent together here and in the hangar, and these past-- however long we've been stuck in this game," Saihara struggled for words. "I just... I don't know. Everything's confusing, and we're the only ones who know the real truth now, and you still hide and lie and contradict yourself... I can learn to tolerate your lying, but I don't want you or anyone else to die. I want to spend more time with you, care about you, get to know you better while we still have the chance..." he trailed off.

Ouma looked at him distantly. "It's a shame I don't feel the same way," he said flippantly. "Sorry to hurt your feelings, Saihara-chan! I'm too--"

"That's a lie," Saihara said with certainty. "Back in Iruma-san's virtual world, you said that you wanted me to be by your side... And even though I didn't completely trust you at the time, I could tell that you were being sincere when you gave me that offer."

Ouma pursed his lips. "You have no proof, though," he replied triumphantly, and if Saihara weren't trying to appear composed and in control, he'd have screamed.

"Why are you so insistent on lying to yourself and everyone around you?" Saihara asked desperately. "I don't--"

“You have no right to say that you won’t work with me, then turn around and say that we should.” The shift in Ouma's personality was jarring. He crawled over to Saihara until he was practically sitting on Saihara’s lap. 

Saihara choked, backing himself up to the wall as he stammered. “O-Ouma-kun--”

“It’s infuriating,” Ouma hissed, leaning in far too close for comfort, “to hear that you want to learn more about me when you weren’t interested in the least before. You get upset when I change my mind or lie, but it’s fine when you do it later because you’re emotional? You’re such a hypocrite, Saihara-chan.”

“I do care,” Saihara said, tilting his blushing face away. “And I was interested… Maybe you didn’t read me right, but I’ve always…”

“How do you know that’s not just because of your memories?” Ouma pressed. “How do you know that your feelings aren’t just because you and I knew each other at Hope’s Peak?”

“Because--”

“How can you fall for someone who murdered two people?” Ouma continued, sounding almost angry. “How could you possibly care about someone who manipulated two innocent people into dying for a useless cause? How could you care about someone who wants to be friendless, who nobody else cares about and who’s half as liked as everyone else? Huh?” Ouma sneered. He beamed. “You might rationalize it by saying I try twice as hard, but that’s totally a lie. Rantaro didn’t trust me with his dying will or whatever it is you might be thinking. I haven’t done anything good for anyone in this game!”

“I never said that,” Saihara whispered, startled. "Ouma-kun, wait--"

“Iruma’s strangled face and voice, Gonta freaking out crying that he’s sorry, his blood everywhere and wasps buzzing-- just because I’m haunted by them every night when I close my eyes, you think I’m someone precious who should live?” Ouma tittered, laughter bordering on mania. 

Saihara’s heart plummeted. “Ouma-kun--” 

“Just because I cried a little when it was my turn to die and couldn’t take my execution head-on and just exit the stage the way I should’ve, you think I deserve any sympathy?!” Ouma began to hyperventilate. “How can you possibly care about someone like that, Saihara?! How can you--”

Impulsively, Saihara grabbed Ouma's face. Ouma fell into silence. "First things first,” Saihara whispered gently. “Breathe.”

Ouma took in deep, shaky breaths.

“In... Out....” Saihara said quietly, patiently. _Kaito did the same for me after the first trial, didn’t he…_ “In.... Out…” _It’s been so long since then._

Ouma’s breathing eventually evened out.

“Next,” Saihara continued firmly. “Don't go deciding what I should or shouldn’t do just because of how you view yourself. The real you isn’t just the one who committed violence out of fear…and it isn’t just the person who’s afraid of being betrayed, either.” 

Ouma shivered. "Stop looking at me like that," he pinched Saihara’s side. "I know you're a detective and you probably can’t help it, but stop..."

"Looking at you like what?" Saihara prodded, unfazed.

Ouma thought for a second; Saihara almost got scared at how fast he was able to bounce back from a breakdown. "Like you’re analyzing me. Like you’re looking at me from every angle and trying to be sympathetic.”

(It was profoundly sad how genuine he sounded.)

“What if I want to care?” Saihara whispered. He shook his head. “Forget that-- what do_ you_ want me to do?”

Ouma blinked at him owlishly, uncomprehending; Saihara would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so tense. “What… I….?”

“How do you feel?” Saihara asked gently.

Suddenly, Ouma pressed his hand over Saihara’s eyes. The sudden pitch darkness and clamminess of Ouma’s hand was startling. “?! Ouma-ku--”

"You're not getting another goddamn word out of me about my _feelings_," Ouma snarled, voice cracking. "You hear me? I’ve spilled enough. I don’t want you to fix my fucking problems or emotions, not at a time like this-- you won't be hearing me cry about this shit again.” He took in a shaky breath. “S-Shuichi…” 

Saihara’s breath hitched hearing his first name; Ouma snorted. It sounded as if he were smiling wryly: “Shuichi… God, I just-- if you really want to care about me, and you want to know how I feel or what I really want, then-- just use that detective brain of yours all the way andfigure me out already."

“You don’t make it easy,” Saihara choked out at last, still unable to see, though he could feel Ouma’s weight shifting forward on Saihara’s lap. “Ko-- You--”

_“Then take this damn hint and run with it.”_

Before Saihara could even think of a way to finish his sentence or reply to the interruption, Ouma leaned in and pressed their lips together.

It was chaste, but the pressure was there. As fast as he had done it, Ouma pulled back, though he didn’t remove his hand from Saihara’s eyes.

Despite all the possible responses he could’ve given, Saihara laughed. “You really are a Phantom Thief,” he croaked, voice cracking and face burning underneath Ouma’s hold. “Stealing my first kiss like that…”

Ouma stiffened. “So it _was_ you that night…”

Saihara ignored him. “Okay, Phantom Thief,” he said casually, tone disturbingly light now that he finally understood who Ouma Kokichi was behind all his lies. “I think… I think I get it now. Will you play one last game with me today? I’m trying to find some evidence for a case I’m solving.”

_"Roleplay?_ Out of nowhere, yeesh, you're embarrassing," Ouma muttered. Louder, he declared: "I have no clue what you're talking about!"

"Maybe you'll be more cooperative if I tell you my motives?" Saihara suggested. _He’s actually going along with it… _“But first, I’d like to be able to see again. I can’t use my detective skills to my full potential otherwise.”

"Go ahead," Ouma taunted. "I'll never agree to it. I'll stand my ground and stay away from you the way I've always stayed clear of everyone else here--"

"My current objective as a detective is to capture Ouma Kokichi's heart," Saihara said softly.

Silence. 

Then, slowly, Ouma removed his hand from Saihara’s eyes.

Saihara smiled, taking in the view of Ouma’s expressionless face. "A certain phantom thief stole and locked it away, you see.”

“Oh?” Ouma asked curiously-- tonelessly. “Must be a tough mystery to solve.”

Saihara ignored the comment and continued. “I’m pretty close to my goal now. The last clue I need to finally crack the case is..." he slowly brushed his thumb over Ouma's lips.

Ouma's breath hitched.

The silence practically rang throughout the room. Saihara bit his lip, wondering if maybe he did underestimate Ouma's stubbornness to keep his heart and mind closed off. 

But then: "Don’t leave me hanging there, Mister Detective,” Ouma whispered. “Are you gonna take the evidence from me or not?”

(Hearing that would’ve normally made Saihara turn bright red. It would’ve normally left him flustered and wondering how to get out of the situation.)

(But if there was anything he had learned after weeks of this killing game, it was that life was fleeting. You have to take the chances you get, show the people you love that you care, or you'll regret missing them as long as you live afterwards.) 

_(Well, _he thought, _time to be brave and go for what I want, lest I die regretting.)_

"You’ll be here a while, Phantom Thief," Saihara breathed, cupping Ouma's face with his hand, feeling them both physically heat up. “My investigations are very thorough.”

He leaned in, closed his eyes, and felt fireworks dancing as their mouths connected again.

Ouma's lips were softer and more innocent than he could've imagined.

(Lies had never tasted sweeter.)

They slowly pulled apart, gazing into each other's eyes before leaning back in and melting into one another all over again.

Ouma moved Saihara's hand from his face to the ground beside them as he pressed more insistently into Saihara's mouth. Saihara received him completely, pressing back with equal vigor, letting their fingers intertwine and hold each other. Every few seconds, they’d come back apart, and Ouma would press his face into the crook of Saihara’s neck, panting to catch his breath.

_Ouma Kokichi can lie about a lot of things… he can hide his true facial expressions in my shoulder as much as he wants… but he can't hide the warmth of his hand. _Saihara squeezed Ouma’s hand. 

_Or of his face…_ Saihara cupped Ouma’s cheek again and brought it up for another kiss._ Or of his heart._

Their kissing was rather clumsy and inexperienced on both fronts. Saihara supposed neither of them had ever done it before. Yet despite the fact, they continued, desperate for warmth, for connection during a time where cold, cold death loomed over everyone’s heads like a reaper’s scythe.

They broke apart again, lips shiny and wet with spit, breathing uneven and ragged.

Ouma touched his lips, as if tracing the kisses they'd just shared.

"Ou-- Kokichi-kun?" Saihara asked. Experimental; the taste of Ouma's given name on Saihara's tongue was something unique and special, but it was something he was willing to get used to, if Ouma would let him.

Ouma stayed unresponsive. Suddenly, his eyes were welled with tears.

"?!...Ouma-kun?" Saihara tried again, doing his best to hide his panic.

"You really do love me," Ouma trembled quietly, in awe. Genuine tears streamed down his cheeks. "Shuichi."

Saihara's mouth fell open, then closed. He brushed the tears away with his thumbs as he pressed another chaste kiss to Ouma's lips, then pulled Ouma in for a tight embrace. "I do," he whispered back softly, hand stroking the back of Ouma’s head. "I love and care about you with all my heart, Ouma-kun. And that’s the truth."

“...Shuichi?” Ouma’s voice was muffled against Saihara’s chest; Saihara felt a surge of warmth in his cheeks at the use of his first name.

“Y-Yes?”

“Can… Can you say their name?”

Saihara blinked, then looked down at Ouma’s small form wrapped around him. “Whose name?”

Ouma paused. “...The person you’re in love with.”

(A surprising and strange request, but a very easy one to fulfill.)

“Ouma Kokichi,” Saihara said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ouma’s breath hitched. Then, he heaved a contented sigh.

(Why, Saihara didn’t know, nor did he think he’d ever find out.)

They stayed put for awhile; Saihara absentmindedly began playing with the ends of Ouma’s hair, twisting and twirling and teasing it around his finger while Ouma loosely wrapped his arms around Saihara’s neck. 

Suddenly, Ouma escaped his hold. “Cool, that’s enough of_ that_ sentimental garbage! Now I can finally go off planning traps for the mastermind or something else more worthwhile!” he grinned.

“Wh--?!” Saihara began, only to reign it in when his deductions clicked. He raised a brow. “You really didn’t enjoy any of that at all? I’d say otherwise.”

Ouma shrugged.

_What a liar… though I guess some things never change. _Saihara covered his mouth pensively. “Not even the roleplay based on your wildest fantasy? Bummer...”

“Oh, I don’t care at all that you saw that,” Ouma waved it off impatiently. He clenched his fists excitedly. “More importantly, Shuichi, I can’t believe that your biggest fantasy is _that! _I saw it all in glorious high definition, you know!”

“Huh…?” All color drained from Saihara’s face. “M-My _what?”_

Ouma laughed like he was having the time of his life. “Your Love Hotel fantasy, obviously! Don’t you remember?” He pouted, fingers twirling his hair. “Gosh, it makes me blush now that I think about it…”

Now that Ouma mentioned it… There _was_ that one morning prior to going into Iruma’s digital world where Saihara had woken up feeling extremely happy and refreshed, but unable to recall any sort of dreams. Monokuma had told him the conditions for a successful fantasy way back at the beginning...

Saihara was in full-blown freakout mode. _What was in it? WHAT WAS IN IT???_

Ouma sighed like a lovestruck maiden. “Yours was sooo rough and raunchy, Shuichi!” Ouma pressed a hand to his own cheek demurely. “I couldn’t believe all the lewd things you were making sweet little medo! You kept me up aaaaaall night.... I opened up my heart to you in the Love Hotel, and you now you have the gall to forget about it?! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Saihara half-stammered, half-squawked indignantly, completely flustered. “WH-- I don’t even _have _those sorts of fantasies! And the Love Hotel’s meant to be a place where you forget what happens s-so-- quit lying, there’s no way mine was anything dirty like that-- what really happened?!”

Ouma blinked in surprise, then laughed even harder. “No way,” he wheezed. [“Do-- do you seriously not even know _your own_ biggest fantasy?”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23015431)

Saihara deflated, confused at the overall turn of events. “No…”

“That’s so on brand of you, I can’t believe it,” Ouma snickered. He patted Saihara’s shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay, Shuichi. Everyone learns to find comfort in their kinks eventually.”

“I DON’T HAVE KINKS,” Saihara snapped indignantly. Ouma cackled.

Despite everything, Saihara found himself dissolving into infectious laughter with him.

Yet just as soon as their joy had begun, it was interrupted by a piercing, automated voice: “Twenty-four hours have passed since viewing. Initiating self-destruct sequence.”

“Huh?” Ouma stopped to catch his breath.

And then the laptop and USB exploded.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Love itself means opening up your fragile heart, even if you're scared you’ll bleed._
> 
> The link towards the beginning of the chapter is to my saiouma royal au fic, the art of playing the game. The link towards the _end_ of the chapter is to a oneshot fic that basically goes through the missing scene of what Ouma saw in Saihara's Love Hotel fantasy. Yes, this is self-promo akjdsklfs. Do check them out! And kudos and comment if you like them!
> 
> Though a decent majority of this chapter has more to do with dreams and nightmares and memories than with love, I think it all still sort of ties in to the idea of being scared of baring your insecurities to someone else, until you're finally able to open up. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and especially that special surprise at the very end c: ka-boom!
> 
> I will try to write on a weekly basis again (keyword: try). Hopefully I can finish this fic before the end of the semester at least (^^)9
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms.


	45. 5-10. Voyage Without Passion or Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some familiar old faces make an appearance.
> 
> Saihara gets a terrible idea.
> 
> A body has been discovered!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lads we are HERE... vibin... sure the most important piece of evidence just exploded and everything is happening so much but we're just s. sitting here
> 
> TW for LOTS of blood (unavoidable). TW for mention of inner organs-- skip from "Harukawa had pressed her lips" and end at "So what we're trying to say is".
> 
> And finally, TW for extreme graphic depiction of violence. For those who might want to skip it, the section starts from "He clutched the sides of the sink" and stops at "dripping with blood".

The laptop and USB had _exploded._

Saihara screeched, immediately grabbing a pillow off the couch and smothering the shit out of the laptop and USB to stop the fire. “What the fuck what the fuck what the _FUCK--!”_

“Wow, Shuichi, your voice is pretty high,” Ouma said, eyes wide as he stared at the burnt remains of their last piece of evidence. “Is it that scary?”

“No shit it is, I’m trans!” Saihara shrieked back, coughing from the fumes.

“Oh,” Ouma said faintly. “Cool.”

“That doesn’t matter, don’t distract from this, what--” Saihara held the melted laptop and wrecked USB drive in his hands, then dropped it on top of the table, aghast. _“What are we gonna do now?!”_

“We die,” Ouma said, dead serious, and Saihara contemplated slamming his head into the concrete wall right outside the door.

“I’m serious!” Ouma protested, biting his nails. “That was our biggest lead, so…”

Saihara’s mind was already whirling. “I think,” he began, “that we should leave here right now and just tell everyone the truth from our own mouths. It’s the only way we can get their help now.” 

“Rejected,” Ouma replied instantly. “That’s _stupid_. One of them is the mastermind we’re trying to catch and _obviously_ they can’t be trusted. Not to mention, they all think I’m the mastermind, so they won’t believe anything we say without other supporting evidence. Why would you want to wreck everything we’ve already done?”

Saihara grimaced with every word.

Ouma sighed, running his fingers through his hair with one hand and biting the nails of the other, wrinkling his nose from the smell of smoke. “It really does look like that’s our only choice though… even though it’s highly likely that they’ll reject the truth that you tell them. Like with the fourth trial and Gonta…”

Yeah. Saihara _did_ remember the trial with Gonta. It filled his mouth with a bitter, acrid taste, recalling how they had essentially condemned their kindest friend to death for a crime he didn’t even remember committing. The sound of his desperate, genuinely remorseful sobbing still rang faintly in Saihara’s ears. Granted, it wasn’t as though Gonta was completely innocent, but… Ouma had still manipulated him, and that wasn’t something he could excuse, so...

_No. _Saihara couldn’t afford to think in circles about morality right now. Gonta was dead and there was nothing Saihara could do about it anymore. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in sadness or regret. 

“Mm,” Saihara replied quietly. There wasn’t anything else he could say. 

“You do realize, Shuichi, that if they reject the truth you tell them, this all goes down the toilet?” Ouma fiddled with his scarf, scrunching it up in distress. His eyes gleamed. “You’re gonna have to come up with a lie so convincing that they’ll believe it over the truth.”

“That’s exactly what you did, and look where that got us,” Saihara retorted. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a kind person at heart, Ouma-kun. I know that it’ll hurt the others less if they have a comforting lie, and that you’d rather protect them by giving them something like that. But I can’t accept that.”

“You should, though.” Ouma was now examining the portraits around Amami’s lab, wincing as he passed every frame on the wall. 

“Huh?”

“That thing about me being part of Despair and remnants and whatever,” Ouma flinched. “And all the other sprinkles of bullshit that neither of us saw or heard about until Harukawa-chan came here... If everyone else already believes in that, they’re already being lied to. What’s one more gonna do to them?”

Saihara walked over to Ouma, silently observing the portraits and rubbing his own head to ease the headache they gave him. _The girl with a know-it-all smile. _Certainly, she looked like a strange deviant from the classic Mona Lisa painting. Her smile was small and carefully crafted-- like Ouma’s, in a way-- and her eyes appeared to follow them, as if Da Vinci’s muse had become a liar. The photograph would have been completely perfect had it not been marred by the bloody, bright red X over her face that Saihara had gotten used to seeing in class trials.

_Amami-kun knew her once, and now she’s dead._

The twisted thought yanked Saihara out of his reverie.

“A boy with dark hair. A girl with a know-it-all smile. A boy with wild eyes. A girl with a scar,” Ouma said aloud. He lowered his head. “From Hope’s Peak Academy… Ishimaru-san, Celes-san, Oowada-san, Oogami-san…”

Saihara flinched, holding his head. “Hnng…”

Ouma looked past further pictures. “A girl with bright eyes. Maizono-san. A student with a baby face. Fujisaki-san. A boy with glasses. Yamada-san. A boy with orange hair. Kuwata-san. A girl with fre--”

“Stop that,” the portrait of the girl with freckles scowled before Ouma could finish, and both boys startled and screamed, “GYAHHH!” 

Ouma then burst out into cackling laughter; Saihara stammered, loosening his iron grip on Ouma’s shoulders. “Wh-wh-- the portrait-- talked--?”

The girl with freckles peered down at them, expressionless as she tried to avoid the red X over her face. “Oh, joy. I’m dead and stuck with you two.”

“I--” Saihara tripped over his own words, furrowing his brows as he looked up at the portrait and filed through his memories. “Ikusaba-senpai…?”

“Dead people don’t go to school, Saihara,” Ikusaba Mukuro replied. She sighed. “You don’t need to use formal speech. Just ‘Ikusaba’ or ‘Mukuro’ is fine.”

“Ikusaba-san,” Ouma ignored her, substituting his own variant as he wiped the last remaining tears from his eyes; Ikusaba twitched. “Good evening. Good midnight. Good death. _What the fuck is going on?”_

“Whoever wrote the world to be like this is a piece of shit author, I’d say,” Ikusaba commented idly. She reached her hand out of the portrait and touched the frame, then rubbed her fingers to dust the gold paint off. “Gross… I thought Amami was rich, why’d he use cheap prop paint…?”

“E… Elaborate, please?” Saihara asked slowly. 

“This is a dream,” Ikusaba said simply. A beat. “Kinda. Uhh, actually, maybe it’s more like--”

“So we’re hallucinating,” Ouma extrapolated, tapping his foot. “So the laptop and USB are still fully intact?”

“No, those actually exploded,” Ikusaba said. She scrunched up her face, murderous. “Just like that _bitch_ sister of mine exploded my motherfucking corpse--”

“What?!” Saihara’s mouth fell open, alarmed. “What do you mean--”

“Don’t worry your pretty little heads over it,” Ikusaba waved away their concerns. “It was months ago and Junko got what she deserved. Karma’s a bigger bitch than her.”

“How come you’re the only portrait who came to life?” Ouma asked, still maintaining his wits despite the absurdity of the situation. 

“...” Ikusaba fell silent, looking at the others. “I… I don’t know. This is Amami’s room, and there’s a mastermind in your killing game who’s controlling the place overall, so…” She sighed. “It’s not like I’m in control here, either...” Her gaze turned distant. “Whether it’s in life, death, or dreams, I’m just a soldier without autonomy, aren’t I…”

Ouma and Saihara stayed quiet.

She shook her head. “Nah… I do. I _did._ I had the chance to stop her… I just didn’t use it til it was too late, and then I shoved the work on _that _two-faced moron before he left with the rest of 77-B... I’m sorry.”

Saihara gaped. “Sen...Senpai, what--”

A loud groan came from the other side of the room. “I need to do some exercise,” the deeper, tired sounding voice resounded. Ikusaba herself startled as Ouma and Saihara whirled around. “Hm… Why am I trapped in a frame…?”

“Oogami,” Ikusaba’s face betrayed no emotion, but her voice sounded the faintest bit strangled. “You woke up…?”

Oogami Sakura blinked. “Ah, Saihara and Ouma. I never once saw with my own two eyes, but… your class actually did survive. Good.”

“Oogami-senpai,” Saihara addressed her back, a faint pain in his head.

“I suppose this scene means that Amami, at the very least, did not manage to escape with the others of my class…” Oogami mused, muscular arms folded in front of her. “It is a shame. He suffered greatly, but he had strength in his own ways.” She turned to Saihara. “So I take it you never got your diary back, Saihara?”

“My… diary?” Saihara scrunched up his face, confused.

“Oh...” Oogami frowned. “Apologies on behalf of myself and most of the others, then. We read some of it.”

Saihara turned crimson. “Wait, what--”

“I don’t care if there was a fire, no yelling or running around in the laboratory!” a stern voice yelled out. The boy with black hair blinked. “Oogami-kun! Why do you have an X over your face?!”

“I died after you did, Ishimaru,” Oogami replied. “Fourth trial.” Ikusaba’s eye twitched.

“Ah…” Ishimaru Kiyotaka looked rather forlorn. “I see…” He looked up at his own personalized X. “Well! At least this one properly fits all four corners of the frame!”

“Can someone please explain to me why these photographs are coming to life,” Ouma asked sweetly. “Please. Before I diagnose myself with crazy and bash my head in.”

_If I’m seeing it too, you can’t be crazy, _Saihara thought._ Oh, wait, maybe we both are..._

“Fuck if _we _know, we’re fuckin’ dead,” a new, gruff voice scoffed in return; Ishimaru practically lit up. 

“Mondo-kun!” he exclaimed, eyes shining as he peered over his picture frame. “I’m so happy to see you!”

Oowada Mondo softened behind the X over his face. “Kiyotaka… So even you ended up…”

“Ah… I ended up losing myself,” Ishimaru admitted. “It is shameful now to see how easily I spiralled after your untimely death, but at the time, it really felt as though there was nothing left for me… and that proved to be easily exploitable, I suppose! Haha!”

“...” Oowada sighed. “Both of us were easier to manipulate than we thought, huh…”

“Add me into that group,” Kuwata Leon muttered from a portrait over, now sporting bags under his eyes and strange, welt-like shadows over the skin of his face and neck. He let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Shit, man…”

“Nobody should’ve died the way you did, Kuwata-kun,” Maizono Sayaka’s song-like voice called over, though it sounded more like a dying music box than a pop idiol’s voice.

“How’d you know?” Kuwata asked, more than mildly shocked. “You were already--”

“I’m psychic,” she replied with a small smile, which then fell. “Nah… your bruises told me enough.” Her voice and face turned neutral as everyone looked at her. “I’m sorry, everyone. That my actions made it come to this...”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Maizono Sayaka-dono,” Yamada Hifumi yawned from several portraits over. He looked up and about, touching the X over himself, then the frame outside of his picture, then cracked an awkward smile. “Hm. I suppose now that we’re all 2D, everyone’s my type now…”

(Nobody laughed, though Ouma snorted.)

“2D or 3D, it won’t change how I feel about you,” a faux posh voice came out; Celestia Ludenberg coughed.

“Utter distaste?” Yamada asked flatly.

“Utter distaste,” Celestia folded her hands sagely. 

“Even in death and dreams, otakus get discriminated against,” Yamada scowled. “What a world…”

“For what it’s worth, I do regret murdering you and Ishimaru-kun,” Celeste turned to the side. “The game we were all forced into was… extreme.”

“Anyone would’ve targeted me, considering the state I was in,” Ishimaru sighed. “I appreciate the apology.”

“I’ll take what I can get!” Yamada pumped a fist. “Thank you! I don’t quite forgive you, but it matters not! Please don’t ask me to make tea for you ever again!”

“Oh, that reminds me…” Celestia put a hand over her mouth. “This is Amami-kun’s room, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say that right in front of them!” Ikusaba protested. “It could--”

“It happened weeks ago,” Ouma interrupted. “Go on, Celes-san.”

“Oh…” Celestia twirled one of her bangs, twisting her mouth. “If… If he’s dead, then… that’s a shame.”

“You wanted to apologize to him, I take it?” Oogami raised a brow.

(Celestia didn’t speak, but her face wasn’t as neutral as she might’ve wanted it to be.)

“Oh, right, your plan involved…” Yamada trailed off. “Mmh… That_ is_ rather…”

_I’d love to get some answers sooner or later, _Saihara thought frustratedly. Even though they were his upperclassmen, and even though all of them were dead and this was a bittersweet reunion, he felt as though he were being led around by cryptic words all the same._ Instead of this awkward mess..._

“Ouma-kun and Saihara-kun?” One of the last portraits spoke up, eyes wide.

“Fujisaki,” Oowada turned pale-- more pale than he already was as a sepia-toned photograph. “I--”

“I’m so sorry!” Fujisaki Chihiro shrieked, bowing to the point that they were nearly out of the frame. They came back up. “I’m so sorry, if I-- if I hadn’t tried to establish that connection, Enoshima-san never would’ve--”

“Drop it,” Ikusaba said; Fujisaki complied. “They don’t remember that.”

“Established what connection?” Saihara asked.

“The--” Fujsaki froze. “So you really don’t remember… A-Are Iidabashi-kun or Iruma-san there with you? Maybe they do...”

Saihara bit his lip. “If my deduction is right, then Iidabashi-kun’s a robot right now…”

Ikusaba sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Her and her obsession with robots, I swear…”

“If it’s _your_ deduction, Saihara, it’s prolly right,” Oowada snorted. “You ‘n Kirigiri both, dude…”

“Um--” Fujisaki’s brows upturned, concerned. “What do you mean, he’s a robot right now?”

“We don’t know either, Fujisaki-san,” Ouma replied. “Something about this whole place we’re stuck in is reeeeeally fishy…”

“None of us know,” Ikusaba finally said. “Even though Junko came up with her plan while most of us were still alive, she only ever revealed it to the final set of survivors after all of us here died. We don’t know where she took you, or what the hell’s up with this place.”

“Not even you, Ikusaba?” Kuwata cocked his head ever so slightly. He grimaced, clicking his tongue. “Man, it’s weird not seeing you in that stupid-ass Enoshima cosplay…”

_Huh…?_ Saihara’s head hurt...

Ikusaba shook her head. “Though… if it’s _him,_ he and the others might’ve been able to figure it out…”

“Naegi-kun, huh…” Maizono’s features softened more than they already were. “I wish I could apologize to him, too…”

Fujisaki turned their head to Saihara and Ouma. “So… what about Iruma-san? Is she--”

“She died slightly over a week ago,” Saihara interrupted before Ouma could freeze up or say anything ridiculous. “Most of us are… dead, actually…”

Fujisaki worried their hands. “I see… In that case...” They suddenly turned serious. “Ouma-kun. Saihara-kun. You need to watch out for Iidabashi-kun.”

“For dumb ol’ Kiiboy?” Ouma tilted his head. “Why? He’s just a robot, and I’m a raging robophobe--”

Saihara elbowed him; at the same time, Fujisaki glowered and deepened their voice to say: “Listen to your senpai.”

Ouma stopped. Fujisaki giggled and beamed, practically sunshine and flowers. “I’ve always wanted to do that!”

“Fujisaki-san,” Ouma said, expressionless but obviously ticked off. “Please get to the point.”

Fujisaki shook their head. “Iidabashi-kun’s situation… it’s similar to mine. Back in Hope’s Peak, before the Tragedy or before we realized what Enoshima-san was doing, we worked together with her. We inadvertently helped her create her experiments for Despair…”

Both Saihara and Ouma flinched, headaches reemerging. 

“Because Iidabashi-kun was a little closer to her than some of the rest of you, Enoshima-san might be trying to give him more despair,” Fujisaki continued. Their mouth twitched. “Because it gives her despair, too, and… um...”

“And she gets off on that shit,” Oowada growled; Ishimaru turned pink, mumbling at him to ‘phrase things differently.’

“Fujisaki’s right,” Ikusaba muttered. “That’s exactly how she thinks.”

“It’s why all of us died for real instead of being put in a simulation like classes 79-A-- your class-- and 77-B,” Yamada piped up, though his voice fell a bit flat. “We were her actual classmates for two years, so seeing us die in real time, in all three dimensions, would’ve been more despairing for her.”

Saihara and Ouma both turned to look at each other, a chilling understanding between the two of them.

_So that’s why Amami-kun was so paranoid… before he died, and in his video too, freaked out about the permanence of death..._

_He actually… saw people die…_

“Anyway,” Fujisaki said. “He… is probably one of the keys to this whole thing.”

“The other key,” Maizono said, “is whoever Enoshima-san is manipulating directly.”

“The reason us portraits even woke up and came to life to begin with…” Kuwata continued, slightly uncomfortable. “It’s probably because whoever’s in charge of this simulation is mentally unstable right now.”

“Mentally unstable could be any of us, though,” Saihara muttered under his breath. Ouma choked on his own spit, covering his mouth as he snickered; the portraits stared at him flatly. 

“I mean it, dude!” Kuwata frowned. “A person’s mental state… Enoshima knows exactly how to manipulate it. Since her talent is… well...”

“Junko probably inputted some code of her own to fuck with ‘em throughout the simulation,” Ikusaba sighed. “And did some other reworking of her own, then told some random little despair minions to take care of the rest.”

“It’s impossible to tell what that woman is thinking, or planning, or doing,” Oogami pursed her lips. “Whether she is dead or alive, at any given moment in time. Even hearing it from her directly is dubious at best.”

The portraits all turned to look at the one static portrait remaining: a girl with a bright white lab coat and two cotton-candy pink colored ponytails tied up, a grin on her face despite the X over it.

“Ah--” Maizono shifted, looking warily at her frame. “The portraits are starting to freeze up again. We’re out of time…”

“I guess this counts as closure,” Kuwata sighed. “Maizono,” he turned to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm,” Maizono smiled. “I know. I forgive you…”

“Fujisaki,” Oowada said quietly; Fujisaki turned. “I’m sorry, too.”

Fujisaki smiled. “I know,” they replied gently. “I forgive you, Oowada-kun.” They turned to Saihara and Ouma. “Don’t forget,” they said. They sniffled a bit. “Don’t forget what I said to do… and don’t forget about us either, even though we’re dead now.”

“Ah--” Ouma bit his lip. “Fujisaki-san--”

“And Kiyotaka--” Oowada turned around, then smiled, reaching out of his portrait to take his hand. “I’m happy I got to see you again.”

Ishimaru beamed. “I love you, Mondo-kun.”

Oowada let out a quiet sigh as both of their portraits merged to one, frozen in time. “I love you too...”

(Saihara quietly, almost imperceptibly, brushed his hand against Ouma’s.)

“Is Shirogane Tsumugi-dono alright?” Yamada turned to ask Saihara and Ouma. “We’d talk from time to time, as fellow anime connoisseurs, so… that’s really all I have left to ask.

“I--” Saihara froze. Why was his head hurting…?

“I think… she…” Ouma was equally flummoxed.

Yamada’s eyes widened in realization. “Ah…” He looked about; his own portrait was beginning to stiffen, and he resigned himself to a smile. “...Help her too, in that case.”

“I have nothing to say,” Celestia harrumphed as her own photograph began to freeze up again. “Why should I have to die twice?” Her lip twitched into a small smile. “...Kidding. Good luck, brats. May the odds be in your favor...”

“The others summarized my words well,” Oogami nodded in approval. “I believe in you all, just as I believe in Aoi and my other friends. They carried on our wills. So to you, I say… Survive as we could not.”

“Dead bitches like Junko oughta stay dead,” Ikusaba sneered, moving a hand to rub the back of her neck. “Instead of coming back in simulations and shit…” She chuckled. “So kill her for us, okay? You’re the last ones who’ve gotta do it, I think.”

“The last ones?” Saihara asked, alarmed. “So people have killed her bef--”

“Us nine… We can’t tell you all the answers. This whole crazy-ass ride we’ve been through the past few years… it’s too long to summarize. But you’re smart kids, okay?” Ikusaba smiled bittersweetly. “Even if I couldn’t protect you guys the way I said I would… I trust you to find the truth and get out of here.” 

“Agh!” Saihara’s knees wobbled; his head was hit with a searing headache again--

_‘The Headmaster will die,’_ Ikusaba had explained, bags under her eyes, body trembling slightly as she explained the convoluted plan to the sixteen fearful students in front of her._ ‘Junko will **deal with his remains** and hide in the room she’s prepared, while I **dress up** as Junko to take her place. The others will wake up soon, and then we start the killing game. We have plenty of time, since we’re locked in this building indefinitely.’_

Most of the 79th class, in fact, had been trembling and crying if not completely shell-shocked. 

‘And I don’t know what happens next,’ Ikusaba had crumbled, forehead drenched with sweat. She had wiped it on her sleeve. ‘That’s as far as I know.’

Toujo had spoken up quietly, barely moving her lips. _‘The Hope Experiment… Kamukura Izuru. He brought us here, told us to hide, and said that he was going to try to protect us. He said he **was framed** for the Tragedy. That’s true?’_

Ikusaba had nodded silently. _‘Kamukura said he’d be leaving,’ _she’d whispered back urgently. _‘He left yesterday night and told me to protect you guys in his stead, so I will, to the best of my ability. Junko, she-- **she doesn’t know you’re here**, and I intend to keep it that way.’_

_**‘Here’s the knife,’ **_Ouma had croaked quietly, holding it out in his hand. Ikusaba had taken it. 

_‘There’s a tunnel in the back,’ _Momota had whispered. _‘With a secret panel and a long hallway that has an elevator. And in it, there’s…’ _he’d suddenly looked as though he was going to puke.

(And with the way Ikusaba had paled, realizing what they’d found, she’d probably felt the same way.)

_‘Blood,’ _Harukawa had pressed her lips into a thin line. _‘Lots of blood and some bits of innards. The stench of death. Spikes and other medieval, video-game like traps. A bloody trail on the wall and the floor.’_

_‘So what we’re trying to say is… The person who d-died down there was...?’ _Shirogane had interrupted with a horrified whisper, then bit her tongue immediately afterwards to choke her voice down.

Ikusaba had nodded, confirming it. _‘The Ultimate Gamer, Nanami Chiaki.’ _Several of them had tensed in response. 

_‘She showed us a video game we liked,’_ Saihara had murmured numbly. He had shivered dreadfully, eyes wide._ ‘I can’t… I can’t believe… in such a brutal way… she’s actually…’_

Silence again.

_‘At any rate…’ _Amami had spoken up. _‘Kamukura Izuru… he showed us around here. We can’t** leave his lab** at the moment, but it’s decently sized, and there are rations that can last us for a year or so, if we split it up right…’_

_‘You can’t use running water down here,’ _Mukuro warned. _‘Or the main lights. You weren’t doing that to begin with, since I turned the lights on, but if Junko sees that someone’s down here, you’re all finished.’_

_‘We won’t,’ Iruma had whispered. ‘There’s a really big supply of water and spray-on soap and tissues for baths, and batteries for any electronics we might wanna use or stuff we might wanna make…’ _She clicked her tongue._ ‘They really… fuckin’ stocked the shit outta here, huh…’_

_‘Miu and I confirmed that this place is soundproof from the inside, as well,’_ Iidabashi had confirmed, leaning in a bit closer to her to stop her trembling. _‘We should be okay.’_

_‘The tunnel does lead to outside on-campus, but Junko closed it off so that chaotic outsiders and Ultimate Despair minions couldn’t get inside,’ _Mukuro had whispered. _‘You can’t use it for escape. You’re basically locked here for over a year, or until everything blows over, whichever takes longer.’_

_‘Nyeh… We’ll be alright, Ikusaba-senpai,’_ Yumeno had nodded._ ‘Promise.’_

(Ikusaba had looked, disturbingly, like she wanted to laugh at that.)

_‘It’s far too late for me to betray Junko and keep everyone safe, not when their memories are all gone,’_ Mukuro whispered. _‘And even with all of you, who do remember, it’s still equally dangerous. She has a lot of those Monokuma robots stored, and it’s only a matter of time before she actually turns them on._

_‘Kamukura… I used one of Yasuke’s little inventions on him, and Yasuke himself intervened even before I did that, so with any luck, there’s a chance Hinata Hajime can be restored. Maybe whatever Junko has planned for them… won’t pan out right. But that’s in the future._

_‘When the time comes for Headmaster Kirigiri to be executed--’ _she had soured upon saying it, but continued. _‘--or in the event that you think someone else other than me is coming here-- go to the tunnel leading to this lab and hide in the panel in the wall, where the hallway and the elevator are. No need to actually go down to where Nanami-senpai was killed, just-- stay hidden.’_

An understanding was reached.

_**‘I will protect you guys.** I’ll protect all of you and this place from her. **So whatever you do...’ **_Ikusaba had finally breathed, clutching the knife hard enough that it drew a thin line of blood from her hand._ ‘Don’t. Leave.’_

(The memory had ended merely an instant after it had started, and yet, to Saihara, it felt like it had dragged out for ages.)

“I feel like I’m falling again,” the portrait of Ikusaba Mukuro murmured, smiling softly to herself as she finally froze for good.

The portraits all remained still, as if they’d never moved at all.

Silence.

“So that happened,” Ouma at last cheerfully broke it. “More shit that we don’t understand, goody!” He skipped off to a different area.

Saihara was still reeling from the memory. The location wasn’t blurry anymore, so he’d seen it in its entirety.

He knew, deep down. 

“Our class was hiding in the laboratory where Hope’s Peak Academy created Kamukura Izuru,” Saihara whispered. Ouma froze mid-step, whirling around and covering his nose with his scarf. 

“Antiseptic smell,” Saihara snapped up to look at Ouma, all the pieces coming to place in his mind. “Broad ranges of supplies, lasting a big group of people a long time… Like students, or experimenters… The fact that it was underground, hidden away from the rest of the academy, where most students don’t know about it… Its existence alone being a secret… Kamkukura Izuru knowing where it is and that it’s safe enough for us to hide in… It was all because we were _in his lab--”_

Ouma pinched Saihara’s nose, and Saihara sneezed violently. “Ggguwah,” Saihara sniffled. “What--”

“Don’t freak out over something that we barely remember happened,” Ouma muttered. “Whether it’s the truth or not…” He then beamed, licking his lips. “With all the things we know now, wouldn’t it be best if we created another lie that the others can believe? Before we tell them about this, shouldn’t we tell them a lie that can become the new truth, that contradicts everything the mastermind has fed them?”

And once again, Saihara was filled with a sudden understanding. All those times Ouma had lied outrageously in trials-- he wasn’t just being incorrigible, and he wasn’t just losing his mind. The lies were intentional, but they were also intentionally contradictory so that Saihara could get closer to the truth. Saihara looked at Ouma in awe.

“We have to be careful about it, though,” Saihara placed a hand over his mouth. “Lies are fine when I’m the one uncovering them, but the others aren’t as fast at putting the truth together, except maybe Kiibo-kun.” Saihara hummed. “I’m still not sure. I don’t have another plan, per se. But... I don’t want to lie...”

Ouma wrinkled his nose at the mention of the robot, but quickly changed face. “You really do hate lying.” 

To Saihara, it was obvious why he would hate lying. Lying… a pretense. A fabricated, fictional falsehood. There were many words for it, but Saihara’s distaste ran through far more personal lines. Lying was a part of him, as it was a part of all people. He disliked it, but did it in every trial they’d done so far, and even lied whenever he needed to. It made him feel like a hypocrite. Naturally, as a detective, he’d prefer the truth over a lie that could destroy a case. He’d obviously espouse truth over lies. But…

...were lies really all that bad? Ouma was beginning to change his mind a bit, and the fact was scary. 

“What, so you’re scared of change?” Ouma scoffed. Saihara jumped; he hadn’t realized he’d been muttering aloud. 

“...My parents… are an actress and a screenwriter respectively,” Saihara swallowed. “Saihara Sayuri and Saihara Shunpei. You’ve probably heard of them. Aside from Japanese stuff, they’ve branched off to Hollywood, so…”

Ouma blinked. “I may or may not have ripped some of their movies off illegal streaming sites for my siblings to watch. Were they in that one Godzilla movie?”

“I’m not a movie person, so I don’t know,” Saihara dismissed it. “But… They lie for everything,” he whispered. “Whether it’s an act for their movies or for the media, or even for their own son. Pretending they love me and spend time with me… Even before I lived with my aunt and uncle, I hardly spoke to them. They were pretty hands-off. If they have any love at all it’s really just love for the precious daughter they think I ought to be…” he let out a self-deprecating laugh. “If my aunt and uncle didn’t take me in and accept me, I’d probably just be another homeless teenage deviant freak.”

Ouma stared at him, eyes wide.

“That’s why... I couldn’t stand lying. Swallowing your own morals and pride to put on a show for whatever you think other people might want, at the expense of the people you’re supposed to love… It sickened me. Acting to the point that you become an entirely different person is something that I resolved to never do, if only because I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want them to jerk me around.” Saihara paused. “But ever since I met you... I’ve been starting to see it differently,” he admitted. 

It did still scare him a bit, the prospect of having to lie so severely. Ouma did it because it was who he was raised to be, but Saihara himself… he was too honest for it, in his opinion. He didn’t want to hurt people with his lies. He had only recently begun to accept the potential harm that revealing the truth could do, after all.

“You hate lies for such a petty reason, huh… I’m so disappointed in you!” Ouma scowled.

Saihara blinked at him. “...That’s a lie, too.”

Ouma beamed at him. “See, you understand lies pretty well! You can see both me and my lies for what they are. But…” His face looked more neutral all of a sudden. “You’re still a hypocrite, Shuichi. You’re fine with hurting people with the cold hard truth, but not with comforting lies?” Ouma countered. 

The words stung.

“That’s not--”

“You resent your parents and reject their reliance on lies because they rejected you, and that’s understandable considering how they treated you. But you don’t seem to realize that rejecting lies only makes it harder to find the truth. Lying isn’t something that you have to associate with your parents, y’know?” Ouma grinned. “You’ve got me, don’t you?”

(He had a point, much to Saihara’s chagrin.)

“What, you want me to think of you every time I have to lie?” Saihara furrowed his brows.

“Of course I do!” Ouma suddenly began to wail. “Lying’s so important to me! You should be more accepting of the things that are close to your boyfriend’s heart!”

Saihara stiffened. “Ah…”

Ouma continued smiling. “Hm?”

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara shuffled. “We… We may have kissed, but...” he hesitated. “What are we?”

“Clowns, the lot of us,” Ouma replied. “Or maybe we’re opposites! Yin and yang, hope and despair, truth and lie, grapes and strawberries, talented and not talented-- maybe we’re fictional characters?”

“I’m _serious,”_ Saihara insisted, furrowing his brows. “I-- We only kissed like, several minutes ago, so--”

“Grab a labelmaker and start printing, Saihara-chan!” Ouma yelled, clapping his hands snappily and giving him an Angry Store Manager look. “Chop, chop! If the customers don’t read a buncha words on a sticker, they won’t have any clue what they’re looking at! You can’t sell gays unless you tell them they’re looking at gays! You’ve gotta treat ‘em like they’re _blind_ as fuck!”

Saihara snorted, incredulous. “Okay, okay! Okay--” he giggled. “Jeez, you dork. I…” He smiled. “I get it. I won’t give us a label yet.” 

Ouma beamed. 

“We can save it for after we get out of here…”

“And for after we actually see if this works,” the smile dropped from Ouma’s face. “Remember… we’re in a killing game.”

Under normal circumstances, that would’ve hurt, but Saihara knew that Ouma had a point, as disappointing as it was. A single spur-of-the-moment kiss wasn’t enough to propel them into a relationship.

Once they were out, and they had a chance to explore things properly, more slowly… then they’d decide. Saihara was fine with that.

“Anyway… having whatever information our upperclassmen gave us is good, but convincing everyone else isn’t gonna be easy…” Saihara put a pensive hand over his mouth.

“They’ll believe the consoles are the truth no matter what,” Ouma twirled his hair. “So?”

Saihara stared at him.

And then he got an idea.

It was hackneyed and terrible. It went against his principles. It had a _much_ higher chance of failing than succeeding.

But it was an idea. 

“What?” Ouma blinked at him. He waved a hand in front of Saihara’s face. “Shuichi? What’re you looking at?”

“Ah,” Saihara snapped out of it. He put a hand over his mouth. “I just got an idea…”

“Ooh, does it involve lying?!” Ouma’s eyes sparkled. “Tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me--”

Saihara shoved at his face half-heartedly. “I can’t say,” he spoke over Ouma. “It… It’s best if it’s a surprise for everyone who hears it, including you.”

_And it involves something I know you’re not gonna like, Ouma-kun…_

_The reason why I’ve gotten away with lying in trials is because I’m a good liar to begin with, isn’t it? Even if I don’t like seeing it that way… Even when Ouma-kun called me out in the fourth trial and told the truth for once, nobody believed him. They all backed me instead._

_Because they trusted me. _

A lie that everyone would believe over the ‘truth’ they’d been presented. It was manipulative. Ouma would call him the biggest hypocrite of the century. He might even_ die _for doing it. The thought alone made Saihara feel sick.

But it was the only thing he could think of, in the aftermath of the laptop and USB exploding.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara licked his lips. “If I told you that I had an idea to save everyone that involved using both the truth _and_ lies, would you help me out with it?”

=

When Momota and Yumeno woke up, Shirogane was beginning to nod off. Kiibo still whirred somewhere nearby.

Momota slowly got off of Harukawa’s lap, praying internally that she and the others wouldn’t see the slight pink tinge to his face.

“Switch shifts?” Yumeno mumbled, rubbing her eye sleepily. She took out a nearby flashlight and lit it up.

“Yeah,” Momota replied, voice scratchy. 

“I can still stay up,” Harukawa protested. 

“You should sleep,” Momota frowned.

“Assassin training,” Harukawa replied, as if that gave her any leeway.

“Four hours is unhealthy enough, Makimaki. We don’t care if you’ve trained so that you don’t need any sleep at all; you are not getting less than that,” Yumeno protested._ “Sleep.”_

“I wanna talk to you guys more,” Harukawa-- Momota didn’t want to describe it as a _whine,_ but it was as close to a whine as Harukawa would ever do. “And… I have a question for you, Yumeno,” she continued, looking at Momota warily.

Momota blinked. Yumeno looked between them, then spoke up. “If it’s about the handkerchief, Momota knows too.”

Harukawa raised a brow, then nodded. “What the fuck was that about?”

“It’s the color of…” Yumeno jerked her head over to Shirogane, who was fast asleep.

Harukawa then raised both brows. “...?”

“That’s all I’m saying, okay?” Yumeno whispered. “I don’t want…” She motioned around her ear. _I don’t want Shirogane to hear._

Harukawa nodded, curt. “Alright.”

It did make Momota curious. Yumeno… wasn’t someone he’d consider all that smart academically, but she seemed to have good instinct. If she thought something was up with Shirogane, well… it was definitely something to consider. 

“...So are you going to sleep?” Yumeno pressed. “Makimaki?”

“In a bit,” Harukawa deflected. Yumeno’s nostrils flared; Harukawa snorted. “You’re not gonna force me to sleep, Yumeno. I can handle it.”

“If you don’t turn around and go to sleep right now I’ll tell Momota what you were about to say to him when you two were yelling earlier,” Yumeno threatened, a big grin on her face.

_What she was about to say…?_ Momota raised a brow..

Harukawa reddened, eyes wide. “You-- You were awake?!” she whisper-yelled, mortified.

“Of course I’d wake up when you’re yelling that loud!” Yumeno hissed, though she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. “I fell asleep again later, but--”

“Don’t you dare,” Harukawa warned, suddenly a lot more murderous than before.

Momota felt utterly lost. “What’re you two even talking about...?” he asked, cautious.

Yumeno grinned, breathless. “The fact that Makimaki here was about to tell you that she lo-- _EEK!_” Yumeno shrieked as Harukawa tackled her, pinning her to the ground and covering her mouth. Shirogane was right in front of them, lightly snoring.

Momota grimaced. _God, girls are so fuckin’ weird..._

“Fuck!” Harukawa swore, shaking out her hand; Yumeno had bitten her, but was still pinned to the floor.

“If you don’t go to sleep right now I’m actually gonna tell him,” Yumeno warned from below, still giggling. “For real.”

Harukawa pinched her hard, ignoring Yumeno’s tiny squeal. “You’re the worst.” She sighed, clambering off of Yumeno. 

Suddenly, Momota felt like he might’ve figured it out. “Do you mean… when you said you’d be there for me because we’re friends?”

Both Yumeno and Harukawa froze; the former looking like a kid who caught Santa delivering Christmas presents in the middle of the night and the latter looking like she was counting down seconds on an undefusable bomb.

“‘cos--” Momota was being watched like a hawk by both of them, fucking hell, he’d have to pick his words carefully-- He coughed, then put a sheepish arm behind his neck. “For a minute there, I thought… you were gonna say…”

(This was so awkward.)

“...that you love me,” he practically mumbled into the air, quieter than a mouse.

=

Harukawa would slap Yumeno later.

For now… well, even if Momota had figured it out, she hadn’t confessed outright, so it was okay.

Looking at Momota’s face now… it really did remind Harukawa of Hana. 

They had the same spark. A bright person looking forward to their bright future... Willing to spend time with everyone, solely because they themselves were that kind. Bringing out the best in people.

_And befriending me to the point that it made me learn to love myself again… she was my hope back then, and he’s my hope now… _

Even if he hardly had any time left… Harukawa wouldn’t stop letting them inspire her. She refused to give up. 

_I’ll communicate better with others. I’ll become a better person. We’ll keep going. _

“I said what I said,” Harukawa said simply, turning around to lie down and sleep. “And for the record, I promised Shuichi that I wouldn’t go around making love confessions until we all got out together.”

“Huh?” Yumeno sat up, propping herself up on the wall next to Shirogane. “Wait a minute, how come I never heard about this?!”

“You never mentioned making that kinda pact with him,” Momota blinked, a little surprised. 

Harukawa bit her lip. “It was a mutual agreement,” she said at last. “And I’m not breaking it. Once we rescue him and all escape from here, then I’ll say it.”

“Oh…” Momota looked to the side.

“I-If I do like anyone that way,” Harukawa toyed with her ponytails, suddenly stuttering. “Don’t make assumptions.” _Staggering, Maki,_ she thought drily. _You now have the emotional intelligence of a Kiibo._

Yumeno beamed. “Yeah,” She whispered quietly, careful not to wake up Shirogane. “We will save Saihara.”

“I’m sleeping, then,” Harukawa yawned. “If something happens, I’ll wake up…”

“Goodnight, Maki,” Momota murmured. “And… thank you.”

(Harukawa drifted off with a smile.)

=

“Nighty-night, Makimaki,” Yumeno handed her a blanket and let her sleep next to Shirogane. 

Harukawa was a light sleeper anyway, so it’d be fine. If Shirogane moved or did anything, Harukawa would be on high alert.

Yumeno sighed, turning to Momota and pointing around him with the yellow beam of her flashlight. “Night watch?”

“Yeah,” Momota replied, squinting at the brightness. He coughed a bit. “Night watch.”

They sat. Yumeno watched Shirogane. Momota watched her. The air around them was silent for a while.

“...You look like you’re thinking a lot,” Yumeno finally said. “Wanna talk about it?”

Momota was quiet. Then, he spoke: “One breakdown ain’t gonna make my troubles disappear.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to talk about it,” Yumeno twisted her mouth. “Only if you want.”

“Just…” Momota sighed, burying his head in his hands. “That bastard Ouma has such a tight grip on everything that we can’t even _find _Shuichi. He’s our best friend, y’know? He’s my best friend, and yet, I…” he screwed his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath. “One of the last things I told him before he got kidnapped was that _I don’t need him anymore.”_

Yumeno looked at him with grim sympathy.

Momota looked back up, a defeated smile on his face. “It’s killing me,” he barked out a harsh laugh, then coughed. “The regret is killing me in a totally different way than this--” he waved his hand half-heartedly. “--illness is. Shuichi’s been held captive by Ultimate Despair for almost a week now. He could be brainwashed or dead,” the words tumbled out of him with disturbing ease. “I… I know we’re trying, and I do believe in us, but-- I’m worried to death about him.”

“...”

“You were right, Yumeno,” Momota said finally, looking her in the eye. “If one of us died, or something worse, before I apologized… I did regret it.”

“He’s not dead yet,” Yumeno scowled, whacking him on the knee with the flashlight. Momota yelped. “Don’t go killing off Saihara before we’ve even seen it with our own eyes.”

“But--”

“No buts!” Yumeno declared. “Magicians aren’t done til you see the final outcome. If Saihara’s still disappeared, then that means the act is still on and we have to find him.”

Momota stared, then smirked. “Yeah… guess so.”

Then, all of a sudden, an ear-shattering, paralyzing scream resounded in the distance; there were crashing sounds, and the whole building rumbled as if there was an earthquake, violently shaking.

Yumeno and Momota yelled, scrambling for something to hold onto. Harukawa and Shirogane burst awake, eyes wide and on alert as they struggled and stood up. 

“What’s going on?!” Harukawa yelled, vice-like grip on Shirogane’s and Yumeno’s wrists to prevent them from getting hurt as the building shook.

Then, all around them, there rang out bone-chilling begs for mercy.

_ **Ǎ̶͍͈͖̩͈̾͛͗̀͗͐ͭ͝ͅA̖͈͍͓̬̻̰͆͒̇Ą̴͉̬̯̞̺͖̜̊̓̊̽́̆̈́̆̄Ả͙̼͚̓͋ͨ̆̌ͅA̷̢̠̰͖͙ͫ̿̎̃ͭͯ́A̧͈̒̉͂ͥͣͣͥĄ̧̫̙̝̜̺͚̂Ä̫͍̥̯̌͆͐͆A̸̦̙̎ͯ̎ͭ̑̇̀̅̂A̸̞͉̜̾̓͗ͯ͆͟A̦͗ͨ̊̽̓̃̊̄A̝̩̲̱̙͈͉̮̥͑̑ͪͦ͗͒ͬ̊̔A̬͓͚̟̣͙͆̎̓̾̅͆̂A̭̯̤͕̻̣̗̜ͨ͗ͨͧͣͯ̈́̑A̹͕̠̾̃̏͗̌̐͋͐A͑ͧ̉ͯͪ͋ͭ͏̝͎̟͠A̛͕̝͙̤̙̠̞̗̰ͯ̽ͥ̈́ͭ̇ͦ̊̎͘A̲͓̙̲̙̥̱ͮ̔ͪ͒̀̓ͦȀ̫̦͎̂͌̀ͣ͠Ą̬͔̥̲̘ͤͤ̊͂̋̌̈́̀ͧ͜A̜̜̪̮͔̲̟̭̱͒̇Ģ̄͏̷̗̮̹͈̟͓̥̫H̲̯͙̰͙̘̜͚ͯ̏ͨͩͧ̒͘͟͝H̩̖̖͈͙͖̺̠͈ͬ͐ͭ̅ͫ̂ͤ̕G̶̞̼͇̖̥͌̊͜H̵͉ͭͦ̿ͫͤ̓͝H͖̫̪̦͕̣͇̑͒H̶̙̬̙̲̋͆͑ͯ̕H͉͖̟͍ͭͣ͆ͯ̽̌ͬH̽́ͥ̂͏̰̦̳̠͜͠ͅḤ̶͙̟̙̩̳̱̃ͦͅHͦ̇͊͋͏̠͚̞͝H̸͇͍̩̝̺ͥ̿̽!͙̤̞̟̺̈** _

** _ͦͭ̔͏̝̦͚̟̟͔̟S̩͓̒ͤ̃͢T̮͉͙̦̗̤̤̆ͧ́̐O̫̮̗̼̻̜ͥ̈́̉͆́͌̇̒ͬP̸̼͍̪̼̭̫ͩ̾̔ͫ ͔͉̗ͫͫ̊̍ͦͦȘ̛͙̪̻̩̳͂ͬ͛͂̈́̚̕ͅŢ̲̙̻̞͕̯͑ͧͅO̯̻̝̿̔̓ͨ̈́̐͒P̻̤̳̫ͮ͐͋ͯ̈́͢͞ ̛̛̹̥͉͔̮͙̈̋̀̈̋ͮ͂ͫ͛S͉͈̹̖̭͔̣̏̀͗͂͒ͨ͗ͨT̷̰̺̆ͬ̈́ͣ͗͟͞O̧̹͖̪̦͚͆̍̈͆̿̏͗́̚͝͞P̶̬̯̻̻̤̠̩ͦ̂͊̈́͆͂̐̒ͅ ̦̾ͮ̐̒̃̄̓̅Į̛̯̤͍̌̿ͬ͛͠ͅͅT̊̎ͪͩͫ͏̳̙̦ ̨͔̠̏D̗͍͙̪͔̬̹ͤͦͪ̐͘͟Ǫ̸̱͓͔̲͈̎ͧ̑͘Ṋ̗͓̦̼̼͖ͨ͑̕̕'̶̹͑͛T͈͇̅ͭ͊ͨͨ͜ ̨̡̟̲̼̘̇̀͐̚͜Ḍ͓̩͙͎̠̥̘ͦͨ̾̈́ͧ̃̿ͯ͘͢Ơ̗̳͑̿̈́̃̓̌̋ ͂̈ͧ̊ͬ̄͏̫̙̠͉̠͎̱̰ͅŢ̺͕̲̘͍̠͎ͪ͡H̵̨̲͙̣ͦͬ̄̒Ȋ̛̝̬̗̼͇͇͉͊͛ͨ̀S̛̟̘̜͇̈́ͤ́̍̈́̓̂ͮ ̦̘̞͖̝͚͙̭͓̀ͤ̈́ͫ̊̐ͮ͟͠S̠̙̺̝͌͗̌̃ͮ̂T̷͉͔̭̲̼͉͉̠ͯ͟O̺͎̩͚̜͚̯̙ͧ̇ͫ͛ͥ̾̔P̢͍̼̤̦̺ͪ̓ͬ͊͒̂͞ ̨̯͕̘̞͖͈̚͝W̸̥͕̞̠̔̅̄̌̊ͧA̴̷̢̗̫̖̣͚̐̉ͧĪ̦͇̩̠̯̫̗̤͍ͪ̂͛̍Ţ̲̪̣͙̖̤̜̯̅ͣ-̻͉̮͚͍̃̀ͧ-̲̤̬̣̬̭̣ͣͦ̈́͜_ **

** _̡̛̜̞͎͓̇̾ͣ̓̐̚Į̮͚̼̪ͮͬ̃̔͑͒ͣ͘T̴̻̏̑̿̔̎ͪ ̶̢͇̲̆͋͊̂͋͌ͯḢ̷̰̺͓̥̬̬U̧̨͎̱̫͙̘͖͕̍ͭͨ̽̚ͅṘ̵̖͉͔̞͇͙ͭ͂̒ͪ͛ͤT̵̰̻͓̹ͧͮ̀͊͗͡S̷̡̳͓̫ͣ̿̐̑̀ ̦̣̳͔̥ͨ̈͛͛ͪͥ̆̚͟I̯̩ͯ̈́̃̀ͫ̑͆Ṫ̖͑ͥ ̎҉͕̗̬̤̝Ḥ̠̯̖͑̋͑̄U̼͈̦̗͊ͣͥ͊͢͢͡R͍͎͈̻̱̞ͩ͊̍ͨͩ̽T̢̨̰̹̗̦̫̘͉̋̓͢S̳̦̳̟̩͕̖ͧͮ͆͛̂̕͝ ͚̠̲͈͙́͂̈̈́̌̾I̸̯̬̜͕̼̘̫̎͒̅ͥͨ̚͞T̪̯͙͐́̂̌͋̐̉̋ ̳̘̤̘͈̙̥̱̤̓H̴̴̛͕̥̹͓̤̜̙͉̩̏͐̉̈̂̒̉Ü̸̵̡͔̲̹̯̒ͦ̿̏R͈̻ͥ̓̉̾̈́͒ͨ͐̈͡T̶͙͚̪̲͚̣̝͒̿̉̍̕Ś̙̮̹̰͑̇͐͛̂̔̉ ̷̧̩̼̬̦̻̖̺̤̱̿͌̅̄̅̓̊̄I̫͈̖͔̮̬͍̿̍ͣ͑́̇͜'̧͉͖̌M͉̔ ̡ͬ̑̋̀̑́͗ͯ͏͎̯̙ͅD͓̘̰̮̄ͥ͘Y̵̦̩̆ͧ̌I̡̬͙͓͍͚̱̞͙͌̊N̝̠̮̰͇̙̜̜̼̏̇ͫ͆̓̅G̠̣̫̙͖ͫ͋̍͡ͅ-̣̏̔ͤ̂͑ͯ̓͡-̵̌ͯ̔͗̽́͏̯̩!̹̗̬͍̟̥̭ͥͧ̈̓̊_ **

“What’s happening--” Shirogane’s voice rose, startled. “What was that?!” The soft electric yellow light of Yumeno’s flashlight flickered out, and the sudden darkness set everyone’s alarm bells ringing. 

Hyperaware, Momota whirled around to do a headcount. Of the five of them, Harukawa was holding onto Shirogane and Yumeno. He himself was standing, and…

His breath hitched. Now that he thought about it, it _had _been oddly quiet, absent of whirring noises or anything--!

“H-Hey, Maki...” Momota said gravely, voice wobbling. “Shirogane, Yumeno--”

“Momota-kun--” Shirogane seemed to have realized it as well; she looked all over the place, more and more frantic. She looked at him, eyes wide in horror and panic.

_“...Where’s Kiibo-kun?!”_

=

He’d gotten up and quietly walked off for some fresh air once Harukawa had gone to sleep, deciding that enough was enough.

After all of that, between Harukawa and Momota, then between those three in general, it was too much to bear

Harukawa and Momota reminded him too much of the way he and Iruma used to be. Not so much in their personalities-- just in intimacy. Kiibo missed having someone who actually understood him more than most. Iruma wasn’t perfect, but having her around was better than not.

(He missed her. The Love Hotel hadn’t been enough.)

(Not just her-- all of his friends. So many of his friends were dead or missing. He missed all of them…)

_ **I miss Miu and the others too, but...** _

The feelings amplified his inner voice. It was clamoring for release, the emotions spiking like a tsunami crashing over beach shores. His head hurt again, the pain nearly unbearable. Even while he was on his way to the bathroom, away from the source of his inner voice’s turmoil, Kiibo wasn’t free from its incessant yapping. 

“Oh, be quiet…” he muttered aloud, clutching his head. Nobody else had been experiencing pain this severe lately. If they were, they were very good at hiding it. Maybe that was a human thing.

The first floor boy’s bathroom door shut behind him.

Now alone, he allowed himself to cry out. It hurt. It felt like someone was tearing him apart, wire by wire, intentionally scraping pieces of metal apart from within his own systems and dragging it against his internal panels. His brain hurt.

(His brain? No, his AI system. How silly of him.)

_**Look at yourself!**_ _**I’m right here! Listen to me! To you? Ugh, we’re both the same pers--**_

Whatever it was, it was excruciating. Kiibo groaned and cried and whimpered all he could, gritting his teeth, but nothing worked to make the pain subside. It was almost as if the headache knew he was hurting; the pain flared even more with each passing minute. His inner voice was still a melancholy cacophony of emotion, and Kiibo 

felt 

himself 

slowly 

going 

insane.

_ **You’re so close, I believe in you, just-- try to remember! I’m doing everything I can--** _

_How can you be so passionate?_ he demanded internally. _After everything that’s happened--_

_ **I have to! I want to! Because the whole point of me even trying to break through whatever the fuck Enoshima-san put us through to save everyone--!** _

_Passionate and purposeful. How nice that you can be that way, inner voice…_

Memories. Happy, sad, fearful, angry, disgusted, all convoluted and mixing together, swimming in his brain. Feelings deep within Kiibo that refused to completely come out, fragments of words and images and static, all leaving him feeling like someone was stabbing him over and over in the head.

_...because at this point, I don’t think I can be the same._

Stab, stab, stab, stab, stab...

_ **Don’t say that! Remember Miu, remember the others, remember yourself, remember the truth that--** _

Stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab--

Kiibo met his own eyes in the mirror and saw madness.

_**Wait, **GOD, **what are **I CAN’T **you **TAKE THIS **doing-- **ANYMORE!_

He clutched the sides of the sink and slammed his face against the mirror, hard enough to shatter the glass and leave a dent in the wall, hyperventilating as he bashed his head in over and over. “SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” he screamed, punctuating each word with a bloody blow. “LEAVE-- ME-- _ALONE!”_

The entire building shook violently, and for such a prolonged period that it caused Kiibo to crash against the walls and mirrors even more, splattering blood everywhere. His inner voice let out a bloodcurdling scream, crying and begging to avoid the disconnection--

** _Ǎ̶͍͈͖̩͈̾͛͗̀͗͐ͭ͝ͅA̖͈͍͓̬̻̰͆͒̇Ą̴͉̬̯̞̺͖̜̊̓̊̽́̆̈́̆̄Ả͙̼͚̓͋ͨ̆̌ͅA̷̢̠̰͖͙ͫ̿̎̃ͭͯ́A̧͈̒̉͂ͥͣͣͥĄ̧̫̙̝̜̺͚̂Ä̫͍̥̯̌͆͐͆A̸̦̙̎ͯ̎ͭ̑̇̀̅̂A̸̞͉̜̾̓͗ͯ͆͟A̦͗ͨ̊̽̓̃̊̄A̝̩̲̱̙͈͉̮̥͑̑ͪͦ͗͒ͬ̊̔A̬͓͚̟̣͙͆̎̓̾̅͆̂A̭̯̤͕̻̣̗̜ͨ͗ͨͧͣͯ̈́̑A̹͕̠̾̃̏͗̌̐͋͐A͑ͧ̉ͯͪ͋ͭ͏̝͎̟͠A̛͕̝͙̤̙̠̞̗̰ͯ̽ͥ̈́ͭ̇ͦ̊̎͘A̲͓̙̲̙̥̱ͮ̔ͪ͒̀̓ͦȀ̫̦͎̂͌̀ͣ͠Ą̬͔̥̲̘ͤͤ̊͂̋̌̈́̀ͧ͜A̜̜̪̮͔̲̟̭̱͒̇Ģ̄͏̷̗̮̹͈̟͓̥̫H̲̯͙̰͙̘̜͚ͯ̏ͨͩͧ̒͘͟͝H̩̖̖͈͙͖̺̠͈ͬ͐ͭ̅ͫ̂ͤ̕G̶̞̼͇̖̥͌̊͜H̵͉ͭͦ̿ͫͤ̓͝H͖̫̪̦͕̣͇̑͒H̶̙̬̙̲̋͆͑ͯ̕H͉͖̟͍ͭͣ͆ͯ̽̌ͬH̽́ͥ̂͏̰̦̳̠͜͠ͅḤ̶͙̟̙̩̳̱̃ͦͅHͦ̇͊͋͏̠͚̞͝H̸͇͍̩̝̺ͥ̿̽!͙̤̞̟̺̈_ **

** _ͦͭ̔͏̝̦͚̟̟͔̟S̩͓̒ͤ̃͢T̮͉͙̦̗̤̤̆ͧ́̐O̫̮̗̼̻̜ͥ̈́̉͆́͌̇̒ͬP̸̼͍̪̼̭̫ͩ̾̔ͫ ͔͉̗ͫͫ̊̍ͦͦȘ̛͙̪̻̩̳͂ͬ͛͂̈́̚̕ͅŢ̲̙̻̞͕̯͑ͧͅO̯̻̝̿̔̓ͨ̈́̐͒P̻̤̳̫ͮ͐͋ͯ̈́͢͞ ̛̛̹̥͉͔̮͙̈̋̀̈̋ͮ͂ͫ͛S͉͈̹̖̭͔̣̏̀͗͂͒ͨ͗ͨT̷̰̺̆ͬ̈́ͣ͗͟͞O̧̹͖̪̦͚͆̍̈͆̿̏͗́̚͝͞P̶̬̯̻̻̤̠̩ͦ̂͊̈́͆͂̐̒ͅ ̦̾ͮ̐̒̃̄̓̅Į̛̯̤͍̌̿ͬ͛͠ͅͅT̊̎ͪͩͫ͏̳̙̦ ̨͔̠̏D̗͍͙̪͔̬̹ͤͦͪ̐͘͟Ǫ̸̱͓͔̲͈̎ͧ̑͘Ṋ̗͓̦̼̼͖ͨ͑̕̕'̶̹͑͛T͈͇̅ͭ͊ͨͨ͜ ̨̡̟̲̼̘̇̀͐̚͜Ḍ͓̩͙͎̠̥̘ͦͨ̾̈́ͧ̃̿ͯ͘͢Ơ̗̳͑̿̈́̃̓̌̋ ͂̈ͧ̊ͬ̄͏̫̙̠͉̠͎̱̰ͅŢ̺͕̲̘͍̠͎ͪ͡H̵̨̲͙̣ͦͬ̄̒Ȋ̛̝̬̗̼͇͇͉͊͛ͨ̀S̛̟̘̜͇̈́ͤ́̍̈́̓̂ͮ ̦̘̞͖̝͚͙̭͓̀ͤ̈́ͫ̊̐ͮ͟͠S̠̙̺̝͌͗̌̃ͮ̂T̷͉͔̭̲̼͉͉̠ͯ͟O̺͎̩͚̜͚̯̙ͧ̇ͫ͛ͥ̾̔P̢͍̼̤̦̺ͪ̓ͬ͊͒̂͞ ̨̯͕̘̞͖͈̚͝W̸̥͕̞̠̔̅̄̌̊ͧA̴̷̢̗̫̖̣͚̐̉ͧĪ̦͇̩̠̯̫̗̤͍ͪ̂͛̍Ţ̲̪̣͙̖̤̜̯̅ͣ-̻͉̮͚͍̃̀ͧ-̲̤̬̣̬̭̣ͣͦ̈́͜_ **

** _̡̛̜̞͎͓̇̾ͣ̓̐̚Į̮͚̼̪ͮͬ̃̔͑͒ͣ͘T̴̻̏̑̿̔̎ͪ ̶̢͇̲̆͋͊̂͋͌ͯḢ̷̰̺͓̥̬̬U̧̨͎̱̫͙̘͖͕̍ͭͨ̽̚ͅṘ̵̖͉͔̞͇͙ͭ͂̒ͪ͛ͤT̵̰̻͓̹ͧͮ̀͊͗͡S̷̡̳͓̫ͣ̿̐̑̀ ̦̣̳͔̥ͨ̈͛͛ͪͥ̆̚͟I̯̩ͯ̈́̃̀ͫ̑͆Ṫ̖͑ͥ ̎҉͕̗̬̤̝Ḥ̠̯̖͑̋͑̄U̼͈̦̗͊ͣͥ͊͢͢͡R͍͎͈̻̱̞ͩ͊̍ͨͩ̽T̢̨̰̹̗̦̫̘͉̋̓͢S̳̦̳̟̩͕̖ͧͮ͆͛̂̕͝ ͚̠̲͈͙́͂̈̈́̌̾I̸̯̬̜͕̼̘̫̎͒̅ͥͨ̚͞T̪̯͙͐́̂̌͋̐̉̋ ̳̘̤̘͈̙̥̱̤̓H̴̴̛͕̥̹͓̤̜̙͉̩̏͐̉̈̂̒̉Ü̸̵̡͔̲̹̯̒ͦ̿̏R͈̻ͥ̓̉̾̈́͒ͨ͐̈͡T̶͙͚̪̲͚̣̝͒̿̉̍̕Ś̙̮̹̰͑̇͐͛̂̔̉ ̷̧̩̼̬̦̻̖̺̤̱̿͌̅̄̅̓̊̄I̫͈̖͔̮̬͍̿̍ͣ͑́̇͜'̧͉͖̌M͉̔ ̡ͬ̑̋̀̑́͗ͯ͏͎̯̙ͅD͓̘̰̮̄ͥ͘Y̵̦̩̆ͧ̌I̡̬͙͓͍͚̱̞͙͌̊N̝̠̮̰͇̙̜̜̼̏̇ͫ͆̓̅G̠̣̫̙͖ͫ͋̍͡ͅ-̣̏̔ͤ̂͑ͯ̓͡-̵̌ͯ̔͗̽́͏̯̩!̹̗̬͍̟̥̭ͥͧ̈̓̊_ **

Breathing heavily, Kiibo stumbled backwards. He placed a hand on his head, where instead of bluish oil like he had expected, there was human blood dripping down his face and over his glowing, burning eyes, a velvety color that he had grown overly familiar with seeing.

Shakily, he held out his open palm in front of him. It was entirely red, dripping with blood.

_Why do I have human blood? _He paused. _Ah, wait, why was I expecting oil…? I don’t require that..._

When he blinked his eyes and looked again, the blood and damage was gone.

_...An illusion? A hallucination?_

Ah, whatever. Who cared about Schrodinger’s Robot Blood? More importantly, Kiibo’s pain had finally eased. Not the pain from smashing his head against the wall; that was still there. But the headaches he’d been experiencing these past few weeks in the killing game had almost instantly disappeared. His antenna-hair-- the source of this torture, no doubt-- had fallen out of his head and into the sink, wildly bent out of shape and crackling with dying electricity.

(And best of all, his irritating, desperate, emotional inner voice was nowhere to be heard.)

Kiibo’s breathing evened out, vision blurring and refocusing back and forth like an unsteady camera lens as he clutched the sink again for leverage <strike>(his hand slipped for a second; was it from blood, what were those streaks on the edge--)</strike>, knees giving out. 

“Hahaha!” he cackled, scrambling to pick up the antenna and clench it in his fists triumphantly. <strike>(Was the blood there? What happened? What? WHAT?!)</strike> “AHAHAHA! FINALLY!” He hiccuped, proudly displaying the antenna in front of him and grinning cruelly at his reflection. 

“Finally… It’s quiet…”

Kiibo closed his eyes, shakily reveling in the silence.

And then, suddenly, he felt a wave of nauseating exhaustion crash over him. Kiibo’s hand slid down, the antenna clattering on the tile floor, and he was too tired to understand exactly why he knit his brows and began to cry, the deep sobs wracking against his mainframe. 

“Too… quiet…”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiibo “does it count as murder if I half-kill myself lmao” Iidabashi
> 
> By all accounts, the TW in the beginning should've been obviously pointing to Kaito... but surprise! It was Kiibo instead :')
> 
> I have quite a few headcanons for how certain characters address upperclassmen since even UTDP has them all in the same grade level (presumably to avoid that sort of thing). Ouma strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn't bother with senpai-kouhai stuff and just calls anyone older than him with -san, unless they're closer and then he teases them with -chan.
> 
> **The next chapter will be the last chapter in section 5.** It’s been a long time, but I hope you all enjoyed this section of the story. Thank you for your patience with my changes in schedule, and for reading! ^^
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms.


	46. 5-11. Upstaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the world’s a stage, and all is fair in love and war.
> 
> The already stolen spotlight is lost again to an amnesiac's unexpected catharsis.
> 
> Is it fate for lies and truth together to be able to expose reality?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always i am extremely anxious about how people will think of the story/plot, and this is especially worsening for me because we're close to the end... but I try to reassure myself ^^;;;; Ultimately, this is a story that I wanted to write, and I hope you'll all like it as well, even if it's not as poignant or dark. 
> 
> I've had bits and pieces of this chapter written out since like, last year, but a lot of the in-betweens gave me trouble this week. I think I might be too much of a perfectionist... or I just have serious ADHD, because I finished the in-betweens in like, twenty minutes. In one go. My brain is literally all or nothing.
> 
> TW for emetophobia and mentions of p*ke (that are kind of unavoidable, I'm sorry, but are especially more prevalent towards the end of the chapter)
> 
> Fair warning for ridiculous, crazy stuff! I can't help but be scared people are gonna read this and think it's bullshit, but well... Here we go anyway.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara licked his lips. “If I told you that I had an idea to save everyone that involved using both the truth and lies, would you help me out with it?”

Ouma blinked at him. “...” He suddenly smirked, devilish. “Why? Do you need my help for anything, Shu~i~chi~?”

Saihara sighed. _I knew asking him wouldn’t be as straightforward as I’d wanted…!_

He winced; suddenly, he felt a headache coming on--

_**‘I challenge you** all!’ _Ouma Kokichi had declared to the whole class, a devilish smirk on his face. It had been the first day of school, and there he’d been, being pompous. _‘Figure out which middle school I went to.’_

_‘That could be any middle school,’_ Iidabashi Kiichiro had rolled his eyes, putting his new notebooks into his schoolbag.

Ouma had pouted. _‘Well, Kiiboy, if you **use your head** and think a little instead of just sitting there like a dumbass American, you’d learn the answer’s easier than you think!’_

_‘S-Shut up! I’m not a dumbass, we’re all at Hope’s Peak, aren’t we?!’ _Iidabashi had turned red. _‘You-- You probably just went to some run of the mill middle school nearby!’_

_**‘Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not,’**_ Ouma had giggled. _‘Anyway, the challenge is extended to all fifteen of you! Good luck!’_

“SHUICHI!” Ouma yelled in his ear; Saihara swore, shrieking. “Jeez, you really zone out hard, don’tcha…”

“Why’d you yell in my _ear,” _Saihara grimaced, holding his ear delicately. “Ow…”

Ouma fluttered his lashes. “It was done out of love, my beloved Shuichi.”

Another headache hit Saihara, this time piercing:

_‘I’d **love** to get out of here,’_ Saihara had murmured in the darkness of Kamukura Izuru’s lab._ ‘But being **with you**, Ouma-kun… even if it’s in a place like this…’ _He’d moved his hand to cover Ouma’s own and gently squeezed.

Ouma’s breath had hitched. They’d been dancing around each other for ages, and neither dared to actually speak out their feelings or directly confess, even though pretty much everyone teased them for harboring obvious crushes on each other--

_‘I just feel **safe,’** _Saihara had whispered, and in that moment, it may have been all the confession Ouma had needed.

And later, when they’d been found, when the gas had come in, when all of them were running or yelling or trying to protect each other or all of the above, Saihara had gotten a confession back in the form of a Ouma hurriedly taking his scarf off of his neck with one hand and digging his fingernails into Saihara’s arm with the other--

_**‘Hurry **upand** take this**, don’t worry about me, just--’ _Ouma was panicking, hyperventilating, sweating; he’d desperately shoved the scarf into Saihara’s face, half near sobbing. _‘SHUICHI, **DON’T BREATHE--!’**_

And then an air horn blast startled Saihara back to reality. He yelled, scrambling to cover his ears. “What now?!”

Ouma removed his finger from the trigger of the air horn and tossed it aside. “Zoning out like that’s bad for your health_ and _mine, Shuichi. Keep it up and I might end up having to cut my organization’s losses and kill you!”

_As if you would._ Saihara rubbed his sore ears, dry breath shakily catching in his throat._ As if someone like you, who loved and tried to protect me, would ever..._

“...Shuichi.” Ouma looked at Saihara and pressed his lips into a line. “You’re crying again.”

“Oh…” Saihara croaked, then wiped them away. “It’s... fine…”

Just then, an ear-shattering, paralyzing scream resounded in the distance; there were crashing sounds, and the whole building rumbled as if there was an earthquake, violently shaking.

_ **Ǎ̶͍͈͖̩͈̾͛͗̀͗͐ͭ͝ͅA̖͈͍͓̬̻̰͆͒̇Ą̴͉̬̯̞̺͖̜̊̓̊̽́̆̈́̆̄Ả͙̼͚̓͋ͨ̆̌ͅA̷̢̠̰͖͙ͫ̿̎̃ͭͯ́A̧͈̒̉͂ͥͣͣͥĄ̧̫̙̝̜̺͚̂Ä̫͍̥̯̌͆͐͆A̸̦̙̎ͯ̎ͭ̑̇̀̅̂A̸̞͉̜̾̓͗ͯ͆͟A̦͗ͨ̊̽̓̃̊̄A̝̩̲̱̙͈͉̮̥͑̑ͪͦ͗͒ͬ̊̔A̬͓͚̟̣͙͆̎̓̾̅͆̂A̭̯̤͕̻̣̗̜ͨ͗ͨͧͣͯ̈́̑A̹͕̠̾̃̏͗̌̐͋͐A͑ͧ̉ͯͪ͋ͭ͏̝͎̟͠A̛͕̝͙̤̙̠̞̗̰ͯ̽ͥ̈́ͭ̇ͦ̊̎͘A̲͓̙̲̙̥̱ͮ̔ͪ͒̀̓ͦȀ̫̦͎̂͌̀ͣ͠Ą̬͔̥̲̘ͤͤ̊͂̋̌̈́̀ͧ͜A̜̜̪̮͔̲̟̭̱͒̇Ģ̄͏̷̗̮̹͈̟͓̥̫H̲̯͙̰͙̘̜͚ͯ̏ͨͩͧ̒͘͟͝H̩̖̖͈͙͖̺̠͈ͬ͐ͭ̅ͫ̂ͤ̕G̶̞̼͇̖̥͌̊͜H̵͉ͭͦ̿ͫͤ̓͝H͖̫̪̦͕̣͇̑͒H̶̙̬̙̲̋͆͑ͯ̕H͉͖̟͍ͭͣ͆ͯ̽̌ͬH̽́ͥ̂͏̰̦̳̠͜͠ͅḤ̶͙̟̙̩̳̱̃ͦͅHͦ̇͊͋͏̠͚̞͝H̸͇͍̩̝̺ͥ̿̽!͙̤̞̟̺̈** _

** _ͦͭ̔͏̝̦͚̟̟͔̟S̩͓̒ͤ̃͢T̮͉͙̦̗̤̤̆ͧ́̐O̫̮̗̼̻̜ͥ̈́̉͆́͌̇̒ͬP̸̼͍̪̼̭̫ͩ̾̔ͫ ͔͉̗ͫͫ̊̍ͦͦȘ̛͙̪̻̩̳͂ͬ͛͂̈́̚̕ͅŢ̲̙̻̞͕̯͑ͧͅO̯̻̝̿̔̓ͨ̈́̐͒P̻̤̳̫ͮ͐͋ͯ̈́͢͞ ̛̛̹̥͉͔̮͙̈̋̀̈̋ͮ͂ͫ͛S͉͈̹̖̭͔̣̏̀͗͂͒ͨ͗ͨT̷̰̺̆ͬ̈́ͣ͗͟͞O̧̹͖̪̦͚͆̍̈͆̿̏͗́̚͝͞P̶̬̯̻̻̤̠̩ͦ̂͊̈́͆͂̐̒ͅ ̦̾ͮ̐̒̃̄̓̅Į̛̯̤͍̌̿ͬ͛͠ͅͅT̊̎ͪͩͫ͏̳̙̦ ̨͔̠̏D̗͍͙̪͔̬̹ͤͦͪ̐͘͟Ǫ̸̱͓͔̲͈̎ͧ̑͘Ṋ̗͓̦̼̼͖ͨ͑̕̕'̶̹͑͛T͈͇̅ͭ͊ͨͨ͜ ̨̡̟̲̼̘̇̀͐̚͜Ḍ͓̩͙͎̠̥̘ͦͨ̾̈́ͧ̃̿ͯ͘͢Ơ̗̳͑̿̈́̃̓̌̋ ͂̈ͧ̊ͬ̄͏̫̙̠͉̠͎̱̰ͅŢ̺͕̲̘͍̠͎ͪ͡H̵̨̲͙̣ͦͬ̄̒Ȋ̛̝̬̗̼͇͇͉͊͛ͨ̀S̛̟̘̜͇̈́ͤ́̍̈́̓̂ͮ ̦̘̞͖̝͚͙̭͓̀ͤ̈́ͫ̊̐ͮ͟͠S̠̙̺̝͌͗̌̃ͮ̂T̷͉͔̭̲̼͉͉̠ͯ͟O̺͎̩͚̜͚̯̙ͧ̇ͫ͛ͥ̾̔P̢͍̼̤̦̺ͪ̓ͬ͊͒̂͞ ̨̯͕̘̞͖͈̚͝W̸̥͕̞̠̔̅̄̌̊ͧA̴̷̢̗̫̖̣͚̐̉ͧĪ̦͇̩̠̯̫̗̤͍ͪ̂͛̍Ţ̲̪̣͙̖̤̜̯̅ͣ-̻͉̮͚͍̃̀ͧ-̲̤̬̣̬̭̣ͣͦ̈́͜_ **

** _̡̛̜̞͎͓̇̾ͣ̓̐̚Į̮͚̼̪ͮͬ̃̔͑͒ͣ͘T̴̻̏̑̿̔̎ͪ ̶̢͇̲̆͋͊̂͋͌ͯḢ̷̰̺͓̥̬̬U̧̨͎̱̫͙̘͖͕̍ͭͨ̽̚ͅṘ̵̖͉͔̞͇͙ͭ͂̒ͪ͛ͤT̵̰̻͓̹ͧͮ̀͊͗͡S̷̡̳͓̫ͣ̿̐̑̀ ̦̣̳͔̥ͨ̈͛͛ͪͥ̆̚͟I̯̩ͯ̈́̃̀ͫ̑͆Ṫ̖͑ͥ ̎҉͕̗̬̤̝Ḥ̠̯̖͑̋͑̄U̼͈̦̗͊ͣͥ͊͢͢͡R͍͎͈̻̱̞ͩ͊̍ͨͩ̽T̢̨̰̹̗̦̫̘͉̋̓͢S̳̦̳̟̩͕̖ͧͮ͆͛̂̕͝ ͚̠̲͈͙́͂̈̈́̌̾I̸̯̬̜͕̼̘̫̎͒̅ͥͨ̚͞T̪̯͙͐́̂̌͋̐̉̋ ̳̘̤̘͈̙̥̱̤̓H̴̴̛͕̥̹͓̤̜̙͉̩̏͐̉̈̂̒̉Ü̸̵̡͔̲̹̯̒ͦ̿̏R͈̻ͥ̓̉̾̈́͒ͨ͐̈͡T̶͙͚̪̲͚̣̝͒̿̉̍̕Ś̙̮̹̰͑̇͐͛̂̔̉ ̷̧̩̼̬̦̻̖̺̤̱̿͌̅̄̅̓̊̄I̫͈̖͔̮̬͍̿̍ͣ͑́̇͜'̧͉͖̌M͉̔ ̡ͬ̑̋̀̑́͗ͯ͏͎̯̙ͅD͓̘̰̮̄ͥ͘Y̵̦̩̆ͧ̌I̡̬͙͓͍͚̱̞͙͌̊N̝̠̮̰͇̙̜̜̼̏̇ͫ͆̓̅G̠̣̫̙͖ͫ͋̍͡ͅ-̣̏̔ͤ̂͑ͯ̓͡-̵̌ͯ̔͗̽́͏̯̩!̹̗̬͍̟̥̭ͥͧ̈̓̊_ **

Saihara yelled, immediately grabbing hold of Ouma as the room shook around them. The portraits of their upperclassmen fell from the walls; each of the portraits of their upperclassmen fell from the walls and the portraits of Amami’s sisters hanging from the ceiling ripped off, falling and crashing to the floor.

And then the screams and shaking stopped.

Reluctantly, Saihara released his hold on Ouma. Both boys remained frozen, petrified as they exchanged fearful gazes. Even after the screaming and shaking stopped, their hearts were beating faster than before.

_Someone’s dying…? Who was it? What was that?!_

“This is the fifth floor,” Ouma whispered. “And they should be on the first, so…”

“Something happened,” Saihara bit out, breathless. “We--”

“We leave this room,” Ouma interrupted firmly. “Right now.”

Saihara frowned in concern, heart pounding. “So… what? I just go down there and talk to them? Like,_ ‘hey, guys, I got kidnapped for a week, but I escaped now and I need to tell you that the batshit dictator who kidnapped me and said he wanted to kill us all isn’t actually the bad guy!’_” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’ll never believe me!”

“You’ll have to trust your own plan, then,” Ouma twisted his mouth. “Don’t be wishy-washy.” 

“...” It wasn’t really that Saihara didn’t trust his own plan… well, he actually did sort of worry. If he was seventeen or so right now, that meant it should’ve been ten years since the last time he took an acting class… 

He shook the thoughts out of his head, instead settling to ask Ouma a question. “You trust me?”

Ouma sighed dramatically. “Actually, no. I was just thinking of throwing you under the bus and killing everyone here.”

Saihara grimaced. “...So you do.”

“Hm,” Ouma didn’t bother to deign that with an actual confirmation, instead twirling his hair and looking off to the side.

(Saihara gripped his own arm slightly tighter.)

“I mean it, Ouma-kun,” Saihara said softly. “I need you to trust me on this. I… I don’t like this plan I have, but if we want everyone to believe us when we tell them the truth, we have to do it. With that scream just now, we don’t have time--”

“I do trust you,” Ouma said simply, expressionless. “Alright?”

Saihara blinked at him. _Huh…?_ A split second later, he processed what Ouma had said; he took in a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave here and go down to the others first.”

“Give yourself a two minute head start, then I’ll tail you and follow,” Ouma replied, taking out the remaining bottle of Strike-53 poison and tossing it to Saihara. “The concrete wall re-formed after we entered, remember?”

Saihara nodded, taking the bottle. “When I find the others, I’ll gather them in the gym.”

Ouma nodded. Saihara took in a deep breath.

This was it. If this didn’t work… they were screwed.

Saihara opened the door to Amami’s lab, uncapped the bottle of Strike-53, and poured its contents on the concrete wall. 

The concrete dissolved.

And then Saihara stepped out. 

=

Ouma turned around, looking at the disaster left behind in Amami’s lab. The shaking had done a number on the room.

(Enoshima Junko’s smiling portrait, shattered on the ground, had a strange, unnatural shaped crack over her left eye, much like Monokuma’s eye…)

The scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils again, and he turned around in disgust._ Whatever Enoshima Junko did to us… whatever her plan for her class and for ours was..._

He stood still. _Plan… what could Shuichi be planning?_

Ouma couldn’t deny his own curiosity. But for now, he would trust the other boy. 

He left the room, not looking back.

=

To say that Saihara fled down the stairs would be a massive understatement.

_Whoever’s voice that was, I have to get to the others before we all split paths again--!_

When Saihara finally reached the first floor, he saw the others in the distance, facing him. Saihara waved, arm making big sweeping motions in the air in an effort to call over the others. They all froze.

_They did notice me, right…? _

His question was answered soon enough; he could see them getting closer. All of their distinct outfits, especially Momota’s purple getup, was easy to recognize.

_Wait, Kaito’s hair is brown…? Huh. _

“Ah, Kai--” before Saihara could even finish saying his name, Momota came barreling towards him, crushing him in a hug.

Saihara startled, eyes widening. “Wha-- Kaito--”

_“I was so worried,”_ Momota breathed out with some difficulty, and his voice sounded about two seconds away from sobbing. “Shuichi…”

A twinge of guilt prickled in Saihara’s gut. _I’ve been causing him pain this whole week, and he has no clue that I’m totally fine..._ He wrapped his arms around Momota, returning the hug.

“I’m so sorry,” Momota rushed, weeping. “For saying that I don’t need you--”

“Kaito,” Saihara pulled away and smiled at him, reaching up to wipe the other boy’s tears away. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m fine, I promise.”

He felt a tap on his shoulder; Saihara turned and was met with Harukawa, whose eyes were also welled with tears. “Idiot,” she shoved at him half-heartedly. “Moron.” A dull punch to his side. “Fool.” A sniffle.

Saihara smiled. “I missed you too, Maki.”

“Just c’mere, stupid,” Harukawa bit out, voice watery as she yanked him in for a tight hug. 

“Nyeh.. For a second, we all thought we were hallucinating,” Yumeno pointed out. “But we’re glad you’re safe, Saihara.”

“Thank you, Yumeno-saAN,” Saihara choked out as Harukawa squeezed particularly hard, lifting him off the ground. She then set him down.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Harukawa sniffled. 

Saihara patted her head, quirking up the end of his lip into a smile. “That’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“S-So--” Shirogane shuffled her feet. “If you’re here, then… Ouma-kun is…?”

“I’ll explain everything in the gym,” Saihara promised. “So let’s go there first--”

“Kiibo’s missing,” Yumeno rushed. “We-- we tried following the noise, but it was all over the place like surround sound--”

Momota coughed. “We really have no clue where he is.”

Saihara furrowed his brows. “W-Well… I didn’t see him while I was going down the stairs, so he can’t be far…”

_That’s weird. Where could Kiibo-kun be, then…?_

“Let’s go to the gym first,” Saihara shook his head at last. “I can explain everything, and then we can figure out what to do about Kiibo-kun…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ouma hidden by the stairwell. Ouma silently pressed a finger to his lips; Saihara focused on the others. “Please?”

Momota nodded. “Let’s go.”

=

As Ouma listened carefully outside the gym door to Saihara’s attempts at telling the others about the stuff they’d found in Amami’s lab, he pondered to himself.

_We didn’t actually talk out how I’d show up in front of the others for the first time in a week… so hopefully I don’t get shanked the second I step foot in the gym._

“L-Look, Saihara-kun,” Shirogane said. “We’d like to believe you, but considering what Ouma-kun did…”

“He’s a Remnant of Despair,” Momota knit his brows; Harukawa shivered.

“I think we should trust him,” Yumeno said, looking at Saihara out of the corner of her eye. “There’s something… I think…”

_Now better than never…?_

Ouma walked in. “He’s right. Everything we found out… Shuichi’s telling the truth.”

Momota and Harukawa’s eyes widened, then, they assumed defensive stances, murderous. Rightfully so, but it still made Ouma feel terribly like something would go wrong. 

“See?” Saihara transitioned smoothly. “If Ouma-kun really were the mastermind, don’t you think he’d have killed me or done something worse? And he definitely wouldn’t have shown his face here.”

“He could just be planning something,” Harukawa bit out. “Besides, the videogame consoles said that he was part of Despair, and if we’re all getting headaches from that, then--”

“Are you sure it’s not just your brain reacting to just the word ‘despair’?” Ouma asked quietly. He winced. “As long as the real mastermind put in a few key words we’d recognize, they could make anything up.”

“That’s exactly what I think,” Yumeno said slowly. She pulled down her hat. “But…”

“Even if that’s right, why the fuck should we trust you?” Momota bit out, putting an arm in front of Saihara as if to shield him. 

“Y-Yeah!” Shirogane piped up.

Ouma pursed his lips. “Because it’s not a lie.” 

=

(But even before Ouma said that, Saihara knew.)

Trying to continue telling them the truth as long as they had reason to believe that Ouma was the mastermind would end up being a never-ending loop of distrust. Momota and Harukawa, at the very least, were firm in their belief in the consoles. Yumeno and Shirogane were harder to tell, but even they could be considered pawns in the mastermind’s control. 

“It’s not a lie,” Ouma repeated, desperacy edging his voice; he glanced at Saihara, as if to ask _‘when are you gonna make a move?’_. The others had looks varying from doubtful to outright angry, and Saihara inwardly knew that this was it. Even though some of them certainly seemed more dubious now than they had been a week ago, nobody would fully believe Ouma without some other contradictory proof. 

_I’ll have to do it after all. Do whatever I can… There’s no other choice. I have to make them believe in Ouma-kun and contradict the so-called ‘truth’ they saw in the videogame consoles…_

It was strange. Now more than ever, he was remembering Kaede and what she had said all those weeks ago, back when she was still alive…

_‘End this killing game, no matter what it takes. Okay?_

No matter what it takes.

_This counts, right? Kaede?_

Saihara took in a quiet breath, closing his eyes.

_Everyone, I’m so sorry for doing this…_

“This is the truth,” Ouma continued, half rambling. 

Saihara slowly unbuttoned the collar of his gakuran.

_Time to get in character. Your name is Saihara Shuichi. Son of an actor, who knows what show biz can be like. You understand how people work. _

“I know…” Ouma grit his teeth. “I know I’ve done terrible things. And I do regret them. But now more than ever. we all have to work together and defeat the real mastermind--”

_You’re a natural at this. You can become anyone if you try._

Saihara giggled.

Ouma was cut off; everyone turned to look at him. “Shuichi?” Ouma asked, confused.

_And in this moment, you need to become a liar. _

Saihara’s giggles turned to laughter, louder and louder, hysterical, and then he broke past Momota and seized Ouma, yanking him into a chokehold.

“Enough,” Saihara growled, a thrill running up his spine despite himself. Instantly, he turned his anger into a grin, swapping face. “That’s enough of this charade,” Saihara tightened his grip on Ouma as the latter struggled, shocked. “It was fun while it lasted, but I’m _soooo_ tired now. Far, far too tired...”

Ouma choked. “Shu--”

“Quiet, you little fake.” Saihara was still smiling; Ouma continued to struggle, leaving everyone else utterly unsettled and alert. Saihara turned to them. “Be glad! You don’t have to look for the mastermind anymore.”

“Shu...ichi...?” Momota asked, horrified. 

Harukawa was stunned. “What…?”

“Sorry, both of you,” Saihara said mockingly. “The kind, quiet, hardworking detective you knew was aaaall a lie.” 

“What are you talking about?” Yumeno’s eyes widened.

Saihara smiled, crazed. “Because it was a lie, I’ll have to introduce myself again. Can’t be helped.”

“Saihara-kun, let go of Ouma-kun!” Shirogane pleaded in concern.

“Surprise!” Saihara giggled again, completely ignoring her. “Nice to meet you all! My name is Saihara Shuichi,” his eyes glinted with sadistic glee. “Ultimate _Actor_ and the mastermind of this Killing School Semester.” 

Horror was the only way to describe the looks on their faces.

“What the_ fuck--?!” _Ouma choked out, genuinely shocked. “That... can’t be-- _hnGH--”_

Harukawa and Momota immediately turned to Ouma’s direction, wide-eyed in disbelief. Saihara smirked. 

_From my lie, they’ve realized the truth... Good. Keep the act going…_

(He felt… really sick…)

Momota was the one to speak up first. “No fuckin’ way that’s true,” he said. “You’re outta your fucking mind, or Ouma brainwashed you-- he’s a Remnant of Despair, the console said so--”

“The consoles are_ fake, _remember?” Yumeno turned to him. “We… we never knew that for certain…”

Harukawa snapped out of whatever reverie she had been in and stood more confidently. “Yumeno’s right,” she said. “The consoles may have been a lie… but the memory headaches we got from it are real. Whatever joke this is, Shuichi, it’s a bad one. I don’t believe for a second that you’re the mastermind.”

“O-Ouma said so, didn’t he? Our headaches…” Yumeno continued, eyes still focused entirely on Saihara and his reactions. “May have only been because of some key words… rather than the memories as a whole…”

_Yumeno-san… is smarter than she looks._ Saihara’s mouth twitched ever so slightly._ In that case, I don’t think I should bother worrying about trying to convince her specifically..._

Momota continued. “We’ve been friends this whole time. You saved me from Ouma when he tried fucking kidnapping me with the exisals,” he reasoned, voice cracking. “The mastermind wouldn’t save someone if they were the ones wanting us to kill each other!”

_Pretend pretend pretend pretend-- _“Did you really think I was trying to _protect you, Momota-kun?”_ Saihara raised a brow, lips still curled up in a grin. _“Please._ My goal was to investigate--” he tightened his hold on Ouma’s throat-- _“this_ little liar. Masterminds need to make sure they know what their participants are doing, after all, and I couldn’t just let him pretend to _be me.”_

“No,” Momota stood there numbly, hands falling slack to his sides. “No…”

Shirogane spoke up. “B-But--” 

“--You led us through all the trials!” Harukawa finished her sentence, hurt and betrayal in her eyes.

“Of course you wouldn't suspect the guy playing the role of a detective of being the mastermind, _Harukawa-san,”_ Saihara laughed._ Lies, lies, lies, put on an act, act as cruel and cold as you can--_ “I'm the one solving the murders every time! But you didn't realize _why_ I was solving them, did you? While you were all thinking that I was trying to help you all escape, I was revealing the truth every time to make sure there would be more executions and more killing!”

“All those times you cried and acted weak,” Harukawa turned positively rigid, “you were just making a fool out of us...?”

“Precisely!” Saihara beamed. “I’ve always wanted to try it, y’know? The role of a detective…” he giggled, putting in all effort possible to sound off the hinges. “A detective so hardworking and straight-laced that nobody ever suspects them…!”

“I-- I still don’t believe it!” Momota stammered. “_That’s_ why you kept trying to implicate Gonta? Even though you said you just wanted to make sure nobody else fell prey to the mastermind-- I can’t believe that my best friend and sidekick would ever--”

“But when you think about it,” Shirogane said, shivering, “--when you think about it-- wasn’t Saihara-kun the one who first brought up the bookshelf in the library to begin with? Before the very first trial, he mentioned it could be the mastermind’s room...” 

Momota froze again. Everyone’s faces were blank.

“He started the whole thing…” Shirogane’s jaw set, pointing an accusing finger at him. “It was all… p-part of his plan…”

_That’s rather incriminating, actually. Damn._

“Why, Shuichi?” Ouma choked out, tears stinging his eyes.

(Then, without any warning, he winked, and Saihara nearly breathed in relief.)

“Why would you…” Ouma bit his lip. “Was everything a lie when we were hiding? When you said that you trusted me and wanted to work with me to end it all... I trusted you _back_.” He took a shaky breath. “I poured out my heart, I-- I don’t want to believe that someone like you is--”

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry this is a lie I’m acting it’s all for the sake of--_ “How boring of you, Ouma-kun,” Saihara looked down at him in disdain, loosening his grip and shoving him towards the others. He giggled. “Though I suppose it was amusing-- all I had to do was be just a little bit nice to you and you turned to putty in my hands!” 

Ouma's eyes widened like saucers; he froze like a deer in headlights. The others all instinctively turned rigid.

"Hey," Momota growled. "Even for him, that's a low fucking blow, Shu--"

"Aw, did I strike a nerve?" Saihara taunted Ouma, covering his giggles. Momota remained ignored. "How cute… It's not a big deal. You were the one who said that it’s better to lie so that nobody knows your real feelings, what happened to that?” He frowned. “You’re such a hypocrite, Ouma-kun." And then Saihara shifted again, letting out a shiver and blushing almost as if in ecstasy, open palms pressed flush against his cheeks. "Aaah, the look on your face is so _despairing,_ I love it!" he laughed, then coughed, face hot and chest feeling tight.

"So Iruma was right,” Ouma lamented numbly. “About the fact… that these deaths were all caused by you.”

“Iruma?” Momota coughed. “What’s she gotta… do with it…”

“When she told Monokuma she was planning to kill me, and I overheard…” Ouma sucked in a breath, seeming to play up the dramatics a bit. “Monokuma told her that she wasn’t allowed to kill Saihara. She thought that it meant he was the mastermind. And obviously… now that we’re here, we know…”

“Why would you do this?” Harukawa asked, numb. “Why…”

It was so disgusting, so twisted, so fake. Saihara had made his best friends cry, and here he was pretending he wasn’t affected at all. 

His heart ached.

_(Absolutely vile.)_

"I got bored, obviously!" Saihara scoffed. _(callous, cruel, cold, cunning)_ "I don't care about any of you, but I got sad when I ended up being the one who solved everything.” _(just an act just an act just an act) “_Do you have any idea how boring it is," he jutted out his lip in irritation_ (fake fake fake)_, "setting up motives to murder, seeing everything play out, and then pretending you don't know the truth just so you can find it all over again?" _(this is so wrong…)_

The tears finally fell from Momota’s eyes. "Shuichi..."

"But at the same time," Saihara grinned again (_disgusting disgusting disgusting liar--)._ "It's so despairing, not being able to have fun in my own killing game…” he sighed almost lustily _(DISGUSTING FAKE I FEEL SICK--). _“Even if I have to act like I hate it, I just love that, too…”

“You love it…” Harukawa stared at him. “You loved seeing us in pain… even though we were so scared that the same thing would happen to you.” Tears streamed down her face as she grit her teeth, more furious than Saihara had ever seen her before. “Usually, I ask first… but now, I don’t care if you _want_ to die,” Harukawa growled, fists clenched in front of her. “You’re fucking dead, Ultimate Despair _Saihara Shuichi!" _

She lunged, nails sharp and precise; Momota, Ouma, and Yumeno were barely strong enough to hold her back.

Momota shouted. “MAKI, STOP--” 

“Let go, Kaito! All of you get your hands off me!” Harukawa shrieked._ “I’ll fucking kill him!” _

Saihara stopped his laughter, letting out a sigh. "How sad, all of you,” he mocked. _I’m sorry, Maki… Kaito… Kokichi… everyone… I feel… really sick..._

_Now or never. If they don’t understand the hint, I’m done for…!_

He twirled a strand of his hair, the same tell-tale cue he’d used all those weeks ago when he lied in the trials. “The one person you trusted to uncover the ringleader turned out to be the mastermind all along."

Momota and Harukawa froze, eyes dead-set on the motion and placement of Saihara’s finger.

Saihara let his face turn more grim. _Bingo._

_=_

_‘I’ll twirl my hair,’ _Saihara had whispered back, all those weeks ago as they were investigating Angie’s murder. _‘If I ever have to lie and need your cooperation, I’ll twirl my hair as I say it.’_

Saihara… was twirling his hair. Right now, as he was claiming to be the mastermind.

_Wait a minute..._

Harukawa’s mind raced. _Which means…_ _Shuichi isn’t the Ultimate Actor, and he isn’t the mastermind. _She whirled her head around to Ouma, who stood dazedly behind her, staring in what appeared to be confusion. 

_And the fact that **Ouma fell for it **means that **he** isn’t the mastermind either--!_

=

All Yumeno could think of was her mentor, Kuroko, flipping that coin from all that time ago. Heads, tails, repeat...

_‘The most important skill for a performer is misdirection.’_

Actors-- or whatever you could count Saihara as-- were performers, too… and Saihara diverted their attention well. They went from doubting Ouma, to doubting Saihara, and now to doubting…

Yumeno chanced a look at Shirogane.

Because deep down, she knew-- if it wasn’t herself, or Harukawa, or Momota, or Saihara or Ouma--

\--there were only two people left, and the mastermind sure as hell wouldn’t torture themselves to the point of dying somehow right before Saihara’s return.

Yumeno narrowed her eyes, at last sure of herself.

_...I can’t let her out of my sight._

=

_‘I don’t like lying,’ _Saihara had said all those weeks ago when they decided to not do their usual nighttime training and instead talk about themselves._ ‘I can’t even tell excessive lies anyway, I get sick if I do…’_

Momota was gonna kill Saihara for pulling a stunt like this. Or kiss him. He was still debating.

_‘I get super dizzy and puke,’ _Saihara had grimaced. 

Momota grimaced at the memory alone, and at the sight of his best friend in front of him. _Ah, fuck… He does look kinda sick right now, doesn’t he?_

=

_There hasn’t even been a fifth murder yet! This can’t be… Everyone’s back together way too soon, this is falling apart--_

Shirogane trembled in place, eyes monstrously wide, infuriated.

_Create drama. This is a show. It’s fictional. Just say something. Do something. Anything--!_

=

_Combining the lie that I'm the mastermind with the truth that Ouma-kun isn't... Combining our efforts and beliefs to set everything back on track, and eventually ending the game... I'm glad this contradiction is working._

Everyone else was silent. Ouma was shaking-- whether with fear or rage or hopelessness, Saihara couldn’t judge; it hurt to see Ouma in such a state because of him. The lies crawled in his throat, putrid and disgusting; even if it was an act on Ouma’s part and on his own, he felt so, _so sick--_

And then, strangely enough, Shirogane spoke up. She clenched her trembling fist by her side. "If you enjoyed watching us kill and get killed," her voice quavered, yet had a note of tenacity in it, "then you never cared about any of us?"

"That's right," Saihara singsonged, biting his lip as he continued to twirl his hair. “It was aaaaall an act.”

She gazed up at him coldly, venom in her words-- and yet, for some reason, for the faintest flicker of a moment, she looked like she was smiling. "Even Akamatsu-san?" 

_Shit--_

It was only for a beat, but that was more than enough to nearly throw off Saihara completely. His hand left his hair. 

Saihara’s mind began to swim; his eyes threatened to spiral and his chest and face felt hotter and more compressed and sweaty with illness. Why did Shirogane have to bring up Akamatsu?

Saihara swallowed down the bile rising in his throat, giving her a wobbly grin. "Of course," he said nonchalantly, holding out a hand and looking absentmindedly at his nails, going back to tugging on his hair. "She was always going to be a victim." Saihara shrugged. "I was hoping she wouldn’t die early on, since she was more of a leader figure, but _c’est la vie_. Everyone here is just a pawn of the game. It’s not just her. I didn’t care about anyone."

Shirogane was silent; deathly still.

Momota scrunched his face, hurt, choking out his words next: "I still don't believe it. I don't _want_ to believe it. Why now, Shuichi? If you really are the mastermind, why would you reveal it now?" Tears sprung from his eyes, but there wasn’t sadness behind them.

In fact… if Saihara didn’t know any better, he’d even call the emotion on Momota’s face closer to a shit-eating grin.

_Good… They know. They managed to figure out the truth from my lie… And now they’re helping. Back on the old rhythm..._

“You know what?” A new voice spoke up, and everyone whirled around.

“K-Kiibo?!” Yumeno’s mouth fell open. 

Kiibo was standing by the gym’s doorsteps, buzzing and crackling-- and perfectly fine, despite the horrific screaming they’d all heard earlier.

“What the fuck, dude, we were worried about’cha!” Momota called out. “You alright?”

“You’re_ alive?”_ Harukawa was incredulous.

“Kiibo-kun,”Shirogane’s voice cut through everyone else’s, icy with fear. _“What happened to your antenna-hair?”_

Kiibo ignored all the questions, instead walking in. “I just happened to overhear, after I left the bathroom…” 

Saihara narrowed his gaze, clenching his teeth and trying to force more bile back down his throat. _His voice is different-- less like the Kiibo-kun we knew… but at the same time, I don’t think this is Iidabashi-kun’s voice. He sounds more tired, and yet, more amused…._

Kiibo sighed, then smiled bittersweetly. “...I’m beginning to think this silence is quite refreshing.” He continued. “I used to hear my inner voice with perfect clarity.” He sighed. “It was so annoying… always yammering on and on about remembering the past and having hope… and trying to save everyone.”

“Kiibo?” Yumeno let out her tiny voice. 

Kiibo continued. “...I can’t hear it anymore. All I hear in my head now… is silence. And that silence means my will is now truly, fully my own. My… amnesiac self’s, as he would’ve called it… or maybe her experiment’s self?”

“H-Hey… What are you talking about?” Harukawa asked. 

“I really don’t know; this is all new to me.” Kiibo only gazed up at Saihara, all pretenses gone as he chuckled. “But I’m not evil or anything. Even if despair is all we have to choose… even if the hope my inner voice kept talking about no longer exists… even if everything _you’ve_ said up til now has been an act, Saihara-kun, I’m not giving into you or despair._ I’ll finally make the choices I’ve been held back from making for so long.” _

Saihara wanted to retort. He wanted to force himself into the role more and more, but he found himself unable to; the dizzying, sick feeling in his chest and throat combined with Kiibo’s righteous gaze were practically strangling him. 

Kiibo breathed in. “I don’t know why my inner voice always forced me to stop, whenever I tried to use it… I don’t get why I even had enough sympathy to hold back. I don’t care anymore. I _will _end this.”

“Use what?” Harukawa narrowed her eyes.

Momota coughed. “Kiibo--”

“No matter what, I _will_ force this farce to end,” Kiibo snarled, electricity crackling around him. “This school, this Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, is steeped in despair…”

Suddenly, Kiibo began glowing. His body morphed, suddenly donning a cannon blaster for an arm and rocket boosters on his back, whirring and ready to fire, looking like armageddon itself, all glowing a bright teal color.

“And I _will_ destroy it,” he bared his teeth in a grin. 

“W-Wait, Kiibo,” Ouma coughed, holding an arm out in front of him. “Kiibo, stop.”

“Why should he?” Shirogane asked. “Just do it, Kiibo-kun. It’s what that b-bastard deserves.”

“No!” Ouma hissed. “Don’t you get it, you idiot? Shuichi’s_ acting._ He’s not really the mastermind!”

“And neither is Ouma,” Yumeno confirmed. “Based on his reactions… he had no clue Saihara was going to do something like this. If Ouma really had brainwashed Saihara, then Saihara wouldn’t have been able to take him off-guard.”

Ouma twisted his mouth, annoyed.

“Case in point…” Harukawa bit her lip. There’s still parts of the school that we need to get to if we want to know the truth behind everything. Why we’re here, what the point of all this was...”

“If we wanna get out and learn everything, you can’t kill him or any of us just yet,” Momota summarized. “So put the fuckin’ apocalypse gear back where ya found it, bucko.”

Kiibo paused. Then, he sighed, putting away the rocket boosters and cannon.

“All of you, my inner voice, and Iruma-san… you’re all the same,” Kiibo said. “But I wasn’t joking. I’m just being nice for now.” He turned to the others and held up a hand. “Five hours,” Kiibo declared. “You all have five hours to find out the secrets of this academy and this killing game. Figure out who the mastermind is and what their goal was. If you don’t by the time that time runs out, then it doesn’t matter what you say or do… I’ll use my full power and destroy everything. Three hours to investigate, and then two for a trial where we tell everyone what we found. Does that work?”

“That… sounds fair…” Shirogane said faintly, staring off into space. “Ha… haha... yeah…”

“And if I find out that any of you have tampered with this investigation…” Kiibo glowed again threateningly. “You know.” He looked at his wrist as if to check the time there, then shook his head, apparently remembering that he had an internal clock. “It’s midnight. You get what I mean, right?”

Everyone nodded.

=

_An investigation?_

_Huh?_

_There hasn’t even been a fifth murder. How can we be having the final investigation? This is all wrong, this isn’t how Danganronpa works…_

_They all figured out Ouma’s facade? They all figured out Saihara’s act? How could I have forgotten… that Saihara pukes when he tells too many lies at once?_

_He’s my own <strike>character</strike> <strike>friend</strike> **<strike>GET OUT OF M--</strike>**, so h . o .w..._

_And Kiibo… the audience is disconnected? That can’t be right. That… this is all… going…_

Shirogane’s eye twitched. _This is my show. THIS IS JUST A FICTIONAL SHOW! THERE'S NOTHING ELSE TO IT. I’M THE ONE IN CHARGE!_

And then everything turned black.

=

When the world blinked back again, things were the same, except…

“Wait, I’m back?” Kiibo gingerly touched his antenna-hair, which had now returned. He blinked, eyes glowing, then startled, mildly horrified. “Wait, I said and did something like_ that--”_

Saihara could barely hear what they were saying. The room was blurry, spinning; hot and oppressive; he was sweating…

Ouma nudged Kiibo. “Shuichi’s gonna puke any minute,” Ouma grimaced. “So… hurry it up…?”

Saihara’s cheeks were bulging, he could barely hold back his own puke with his hands. “Nn…” 

Saihara…… felt……. extremely dizzy……………. He had………………… to run to a bathroom, fast……………………………or else……………………………………………………………………..

“Are you ready, everyone?” Kiibo asked.

Everyone nodded; Momota, Harukawa, Ouma, and Yumeno looked determined. Shirogane, on the other hand...

_So that’s who it really is… _Saihara’s knees wobbled._ Need to go…. to the bathroom…. I’m….. actually gonna throw up……._

Kiibo grinned. “Your time to investigate has begun.”

(Saihara bolted.)

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END SECTION 5. 
> 
> And with that, everyone's on the same page again! Wild, isn't it?! :D Check back in section 3 (specifically, chapters 21 and 22) if you're curious about where Saihara's lines about twirling his hair and getting sick when he lies excessively are from! I love foreshadowing. 
> 
> Section 6, the final section, will be next! It's the shortest section chapter-wise, so look forward to it :') We're almost at the end...
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms.


	47. 6-1. Investigation/Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power of love, friendship, and puke opens a new door.
> 
> The game falls apart, and nothing can stop its domino effect.
> 
> The mastermind's identity falls into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn't apologize for taking a long time with chapters, but I really reeeally wanna this time around... I don't think the me of the past ever would've taken nearly a month on this fic ;;;
> 
> In simplest terms, my mental health is... kinda garbage because of the pandemic. Online school is a huge struggle because of all the deadlines. I can't focus and there's a _lot_ of bad family drama going on because my mom is indefinitely trapped abroad with family members I'd rather she not be with. (Though now, there's a chance she can come back on a repatriation flight-- fingers crossed.) Most of the time, it's hard for me to even get up from my bed... but I'm doing my best to write, even though I don't want to do anything.
> 
> That being said, thank you all for waiting for me. I wish you all the best with your health, work, and studies (^^)9 
> 
> This chapter isn't particularly reveal-heavy or anything, and I'm not all that proud of it, but there's a decent amount that happens. More than anything, I'm happy that we're moving closer towards the climax. Here we go!
> 
> **Serious TW for emetophobia at the beginning of the chapter.** To avoid any in-depth descriptions: skip from "Hah..." to "The force pushed him". Then skip again from "he jerked" to "When he finally came back up."

** __ ** _Oh… I’m dead._

_My amnesiac self ripped out the antenna and killed me, and now… they’re all going to die from Shirogane-san’s despair..._

Then, blue light filled his vision.

MAIN CONNECTION RESET?

>YES

>NO

_Huh…?_

Before Iidabashi could do anything, the ‘yes’ option had been automatically selected.

_Wait, what’s--?!_

He was sucked back in, back to--

\--the gym, where Saihara was pretending to be a mastermind, and where his amnesiac self had apparently threatened to blow up everything. His memories had updated almost simultaneously.

_Ugh, too much is going on at once..._

But the most important thing was that he wasn’t split anymore. Now, Iidabashi could actually help his friends. He couldn’t help but grin, nearly giddy at the thought. 

“Your time to investigate has begun.”

=

Saihara didn’t actually know what happened after that.

Everything was too wobbly and dizzy and sick for him to tell in the moment, though he could wager a guess at what had occurred-- he’d more or less stumbled out of the gym and pushed open the first door he could, which was a bathroom-- and then he shoved open the door to the second stall out of the three that were there and let everything out.

His senses slowly returned. As he clutched the edges of the toilet seat, he felt marginally grateful that the stall’s walls ran all the way from the ceiling to the floor. At the very least, he could be reassured that none of his vomit would spill out of this stall and into any others.

And then, there was a small pressure on the back of his head. He could feel his side bangs being pulled back and held in someone’s hands.

“Hah…” The disgusting, crusty taste wouldn’t leave his dry mouth. 

The force pushed him gently forward, rubbing his back. “Consider yourself damn lucky I’m not mean enough to shove your head down this fucking toilet for the shit you pulled,” a higher pitched voice growled in his ear.

Saihara stiffened, but before he could say anything, he jerked, dry heaving and retching; he threw up some more, the smell of puke at last hitting his senses, and Harukawa continued to hold his hair back as the vomit spilled over, on and off for several minutes.

When he finally came back up, he tried words. “Why…’re you….’n the boy’s….”

“This is the _girl’s_ room,” Harukawa sounded like she was rolling her eyes. “You pushed open the first door you could find without looking at the signs.”

_Huh… Well, shit..._

Saihara panted; and Harukawa held him firmly. “Better?” Saihara nodded, and Harukawa continued. “Good.” She sighed. “I can’t _believe_ you. Getting kidnapped, then hiding with your captor and making out with him while the rest of us are tossed around, then acting like the mastermind to get us all back on track… you’re ridiculous.”

Saihara shuffled. His sheepish face burned, but at last he felt less light-headed. “Mm.. I think… ‘m okay…” _Though I still feel a little weak. But that’s fine. Investigating matters more..._

“You didn’t even deny making out with him?” Harukawa narrowed her eyes, clearly judging him underneath her veneer of concern. “Shuichi…”

“A lot happened this week,” Shuichi groaned quietly, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t pretend you and Kaito didn’t make progress, I saw how he started calling you ‘Maki’ instead of ‘Harumaki’.” 

Harukawa hauled him up. “Fuck off and go wash up,” she changed the subject, face pink as she lightly patted him on the back. She gently pushed him in the sink’s general direction. “I’ll find something to clean the rest up with.”

Saihara nodded, regaining his balance as he turned to wash his face and hands.

=

Harukawa took care of the little kids in the orphanage, so she knew what to use to clean up in these sorts of situations. 

She went to the janitor’s closet at the front of the bathroom, mental checklist ready as she opened the door. _Good thing I was there with him and not someone panic-prone like Shirogane… even though the way things look, she might actually be the mastermind._

Harukawa stepped in, putting a hand against the wall as she leaned over to grab a mop--

\--and a panel pushed inwards.

Harukawa’s eyes widened as a hidden door opened in the back wall. 

_What…?_

She walked in. Further and further, into the dark...

Saihara poked his head in the closet. “Maki? Is everything al--” his eyes widened, and the words died in his throat. “--right…”

Harukawa turned around. “Come in here, Shuichi!” she yelled from inside, unable to blink or even breathe as she walked through the tunnel. “You have to see this.”

=

“Come on!” Yumeno yelled, grabbing Kiibo’s and Shirogane’s hands and running up the stairs before either of the two could protest.

“Yumeno-san?!” Kiibo yelped. “What are you--”

“How are you, by the way?” Yumeno asked breathlessly, and Kiibo decided that maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d gone insane. “Your antenna came back for some reason, right, Kiibo?”

“Uhh-- at some point, I died, and everything was black,” Kiibo recounted, hissing in pain as he tripped over a step, “but then there was a blue light and I saw the words ‘MAIN CONNECTION RESET’ in front of me. And then before I knew it, I was back and fully intact,” he finished.

“Anything else?” Yumeno asked. “Because how much we’ll have to search depends on your answer!”

_I know who I am. I remember everything about Hope’s Peak, about the Tragedy, and about our class-- I’m human; I’m Iidabashi Kiichiro, Class 79’s Ultimate Roboticist--_

But Kiibo didn’t want to say it. Now that he knew how Shirogane was involved, he didn’t want to say it just yet. It was too dangerous.

_Because if I tell them right now, Shirogane-san might end up resetting us again..._

“Where are you _going, _Yumeno-san?!” Shirogane yelled frantically, interrupting Kiibo’s thoughts. She tried to wriggle free of Yumeno’s grasp, only to find her right wrist handcuffed to Yumeno’s left. “Wha-- _handcuffs--?! _Are you kidding?!” Shirogane strained a bit. “These aren’t even the trick kind!”

_She’s_ really_ losing it if she isn’t even bothering to pretend to stutter. _Then the words actually registered in his mind. Kiibo blinked, and sure enough, his own left wrist was handcuffed to Yumeno’s right. “Ah--!”

“To make sure both of you stick with me!” Yumeno panted, clearly not used to running or being handcuffed to two different people at once. “Sorry!”

Kiibo looked around. “We’ve already bypassed the second and third floors-- where exactly are you taking us?”

“Shirogane’s lab!” Yumeno heaved. “The-- psychology books there might explain--!”

_Yeah, that sounds about right,_ Kiibo thought. _Though if you say that out loud, Shirogane-san might freak out again…!_

“Ahhh…!” Shirogane let out a frustrated yell. Right then, almost as if on cue, the building began to morph and mold itself, almost slime-like, twisting and changing as the three of them stumbled up the stairs. 

Yumeno faltered. “Wha--”

“Keep going, Yumeno-san!” Kiibo urged. “Just-- keep running and we’ll all investigate wherever you need us to!”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno’s feet wobbled as she hauled them both onto the fifth floor and through its massive halls. “It’s a little_ hard_ to find the room when the whole building’s shapeshifting--!” 

“Aren’t we almost there anyway?” Kiibo stumbled again, straining his voice. 

_“What is going on?!” _Shirogane let out an exasperated yell, seeming stressed beyond comparison.

“FOUND IT!” At last, Yumeno dragged them into Shirogane’s lab, locking the door behind her. “Found… it…” Once she caught her breath, she undid the handcuffs from Shirogane’s and Kiibo’s wrists. 

Shirogane rubbed her wrist; Kiibo blinked, looking around the lab. “So? Why did you need both of us here too?”

=

_I brought Shirogane so that she doesn’t try to kill anyone or continue the game, and brought Kiibo so that he doesn’t lose his antenna and go haywire again… _Not that Yumeno could say that out loud. 

“The psychology books here are the only thing that really seem connected to the videogame consoles,” Yumeno said, choosing to misdirect them with something only marginally related. “If we find something related to our memories here, we might find out something about the truth of the killing game.”

Kiibo nodded, going to the bookshelf and bringing out the books. “So we just read.”

“Uh-huh,” Yumeno nodded, taking one of the books in her hand and opening it.

“Hm…” Shirogane gingerly held another book, turning its pages slowly.

(Shirogane looked really, _really_ out of it…)

“‘Oftentimes, in dreams, people may see things that they have seen before while awake,’” Kiibo quoted, interrupting Yumeno from her thoughts. “So…”

Shirogane shook her head, continuing to look at her book. “How can all of us be sharing a dream at once? This is real.” She stiffened. “Wait…”

“The console memories contradict each other, so maybe there is something like a dream going on?” Yumeno tilted her head.

“We all think and act for ourselves, yes,” Kiibo murmured. “But many aspects of the academy are from a videogame some of us played while we were students at Hope’s Peak Academy. And there are references everywhere to people we knew…”

_That’s weird. _Yumeno blinked at him. “References to… what? Kiibo, do you remember everything?”

=

_Remember…? That’s not possible. Kiibo is Team Danganronpa’s robot. He’s the camera. This whole thing is…_

Shirogane tried to force herself to stop trembling. 

_Stop it. Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop, this doesn’t make sense, this is going against what it should be. This is fictional! It’s just Danganronpa!_

_This isn’t--!_

_**Upupu…**_ A voice came alive through all three books; Shirogane, Kiibo, and Yumeno startled. _**Upupupu! I’m sooooo happy you remembered me! Jeez, I almost thought you gave up on me since you started getting all icky sticky with that other busty scientific genius! Sob, sob! How despairing that you weren’t able to save her, Kii-chan~!**_

“Shut up,” Kiibo turned absolutely livid. “YOU PIECE OF--”

“Who are you?!” Yumeno yelled, tiny fists balled up and head turning every which way, as if she actually intended to physically beat up a disembodied voice. “Huh?!”

_**Just a joke, sheesh! **_the sultry voice cackled. She tutted. _**No need to get that mad at your axe-crazy ex-senpai**_. She suddenly sighed. _**Fuckin’ thanks, I’m bored now. If only you were remotely as interesting as Little Miss Despair Denial or Little Mister Masculinity Problems…**_

** __ ** _ <strike>Me. She means me--</strike> _

Shirogane’s breathing grew heavier.

“What the hell do you _want?!” _Kiibo grit his teeth and shouted, whirling around.

“Tell us what’s going on!” Yumeno demanded. “What does this have to do with hope or despair?!” She clutched her head. “Freaking--”

The voice changed location. _**Understanding intangible concepts like hope and despair is way too hard for people,**_ she said thoughtfully. _**But more than that, it’s impossible to truly understand one’s own mental responses to certain stimuli, don’t you think?**_

_Understanding one’s own mind…? Ha…._

Shirogane’s breathing grew more and more frantic. The room practically spun, dizzy around her--

_**It’s impossible to psychologically analyze your own hypocritical mind, **_she grinned, _**especially when it all gets warped just trying to protect itself.**_

Junko’s cruel, smiling face lingered in Shirogane’s memories, refusing to leave even as Shirogane scrunched her eyes shut and covered her ears.

_ **You really don’t wanna admit it, do you? What a shame.** _

Shirogane opened her mouth, prepared to scream.

_ **Upupu… Though in the end, that’s exactly the kind of despair I love to see. ** _

_GET ME OUT OF HERE! _

The world went black again.

=

The spinning finally stopped. Yumeno looked up, vision at last clear. The bookshelf had disappeared, along with the books in it.

And as Yumeno turned to address Shirogane and Kiibo, she realized that she was alone in Shirogane’s lab. “Huh?” She whirled around. “K-Kiibo? Shirogane!”

Neither of them were there. 

A chill ran up Yumeno’s spine. _Crap, she’s gonna--!_

She bolted out, fleeing down the stairs and praying she’d make it to the library in time.

=

A hidden room.

_A fucking hidden room._

“What part of the academy is this…? Harukawa asked, touching the walls and desk.

_Video monitors… with feeds collected from microscopic cameras, just like Ouma-kun had implied when he said we were being watched. _Saihara’s breath hitched as he noticed all the monitors and screens in front of the desk. “The mastermind’s room,” he said, heart sinking and voice still hoarse. 

“Huh? Isn’t that supposed to be inside the--” Harukawa froze. 

“Yeah,” Saihara pressed his lips tightly together. “The library.” 

_The mastermind’s room had a secret, secondary entrance after all. Just like Hoshi-kun and Angie-san had thought… _

“Let’s look through here then,” Harukawa muttered. “Find whatever we can.”

Saihara nodded._ We already know more or less that the mastermind has to be Shirogane-san, but evidence is what we really need… _

Harukawa had paused at the desk; Saihara went over to her. “Find something?” he asked quietly.

“A hit list,” Harukawa muttered, a dark aura suddenly expanding around her. “This bitch--!”

> THREATS TO ELIMINATE: <strike>Amami Rantaro</strike>, <strike>Akamatsu Kaede</strike>, <strike>Hoshi Ryouma</strike>, <strike>Toujo Kirumi</strike>, <strike>Yonaga Angie</strike>, <strike>Shinguji Korekiyo</strike>, <strike>Iruma Miu</strike>, Ouma Kokichi, Momota Kaito
> 
> OK TO SURVIVE OR DIE: Yumeno Himiko, <strike>Chabashira Tenko</strike>, Harukawa Maki, <strike>Gokuhara Gonta</strike>, Shirogane Tsumugi
> 
> MUST SURVIVE TIL END: Saihara Shuichi, Kiibo

Saihara let out a breath at the journal. “Why would she put herself as okay to die, though…?” he wondered aloud. “And why myself and Kiibo-kun…”

“Evidence is evidence,” Harukawa dismissed the questions, bitter. “Keep searching for other stuff.”

“We’ll think of it as we look,” Saihara amended, moving on to look a bit faster through the rest of the room.

Harukawa had walked to the other side of the room to see if anything else was on the bookshelves there. “Ah!”

“What is it?” Saihara looked up.

“Isn’t this…” Harukawa held up the strange contraption. “The box of ‘allergy medication’ that Shirogane used when we were setting up that abandoned classroom? Or something?”

It _was, _Saihara realized with a start as he looked closer. “So that confirms it.”

Harukawa pressed a button on it. “New Flashback Light. What content would you like to input?” an automated voice spoke. Harukawa pushed the button again, and the box shut down.

“Double confirms it,” she spat, putting the box back where it came from. _“She_ created those flashback lights.”

_But then…_ Saihara furrowed his brows, finger over his mouth. _If that’s how she created the lights, what did she use to create the videogame consoles? If she used something else, shouldn’t it be in here? _He leaned back a bit, only to be startled when his leg brushed against something. 

“Ah, a trash… can…” Saihara turned around, bending over to put it back where it had been before, when--

“Maki,” Saihara whispered, eyes wide. “Maki!”

“What did you find?” Harukawa moved swiftly, back by Saihara’s side. 

Saihara took out both the bloody Monopad and the clean shot put ball from the trash can and set them on the table. 

Harukawa froze. “Huh…? Dried blood?”

“A shot put ball with pink and grayish black fibers on it,” Saihara couldn’t stop the laugh that choked itself out of his throat. “A fucking--!”

“She played us,” Harukawa clenched her fist. “This whole time…” She shook her head. “So the pink fibers are from Akamatsu’s sweater?” 

“Yeah,” Saihara said. He wiped his dampening eyes with his sleeves, but it didn’t stop how he felt.

(Mere words weren’t enough to describe the mix of terrible emotions festering within him.)

“Then… what about the grayish black?” Harukawa furrowed her brows. “Akamatsu didn’t have anything like that on her…”

“This bloody Monopad was Amami-kun’s,” Saihara explained. “I told you guys about it in the gym, right? A Survivor Perk Monopad… Ouma-kun and I saw his video message.”

“So he was holding it in his hand at the time because it gave him information on the bookshelf,” Harukawa reasoned. “And when Shirogane killed him, she took it back with her so that nobody else would know his survivor status…”

“So the grayish black fibers are either from Shirogane-san, or from Amami-kun himself,” Saihara sighed. “Though… I have a hunch it’s the latter.”

It was so… _bittersweet. _They’d figured out who the mastermind was, and all the discrepancies of the first trial finally made sense, but at what cost? All Saihara could do now was use the trial and make sure Shirogane’s deeds were brought to light. 

Harukawa looked like she wanted to ask him to explain, but before she could, a familiar voice rang out.

“S-Saihara-kun? Harukawa-san? What are you two doing in here?”

And then the door from the other side exploded.

=

Shirogane blinked her eyes again and found herself in front of the girl’s bathroom on the first floor. 

_Finally._ She breathed a sigh of relief. _I have to go get rid of any evidence before anyone sees… Nobody should’ve gone in here, and the door on the library’s side should still be unbreakable since Kiibo isn’t there, so it’ll be safe…_

She pushed the door open, ready to go straight to the janitor’s closet. 

She was immediately hit with a foul stench; Shirogane covered her nose. _What the-- gross, it stinks..._ Without waiting, she pushed open the closet door and its secret panel. _But I don’t have time to dwell on it._

Nearly at the end of the tunnel, she found that she was too late.

Shirogane muffled her gasp with her hand. _Fuck-- how did they get in here?! They found this passageway?_

Belatedly, she realized that the horrible smell must’ve been from Saihara’s vomiting fit. But strangely… she didn’t feel all that terrified. 

_What is this feeling…?_

All the bodies she’d seen, all the blood, all the darkness--

_Good. If they were able to uncover everything, it’s good. I want this to end._

The asphyxiated corpses of Akamatsu Kaede and Iruma Miu lingered in her mind. 

_No, it’s not! Danganronpa has to continue. Whatever memories are making you say that are fake!_

The bloody bodies of Toujo Kirumi, Yonaga Angie, Chabashira Tenko, and Gokuhara Gonta, blood dripping, dripping, spreading--

_I’m in too deep… The despair… is too deep… Too much... I can’t get out… I’m scared--_

The bare-bones, watery remains of Hoshi Ryouma and Shinguji Korekiyo, as well as their anguish, whether silent or screaming--

_It’s just a show! Calm down! Shut up! Enjoy their suffering and learn that everything else is meaningless!_

Amami’s voice from all those months ago played back in her head like a record, round and round again…

_‘Shirogane-san, are you out of your mind?! Go back!’_

Round and round…

_‘I don’t want you getting hurt because of me!’_

Turning… around…

Amami’s breath had hitched, terror-stricken in the moment, voice ringing loud and clear in her ears despite the cacophonous music blaring. _‘SHIROGANE-SA--’_

<strike>The look of despair on Amami’s face as the shot put ball came cracking down on his head--</strike>

“I’m going crazy,” Shirogane whispered to herself, mad. She nearly laughed. “I can’t do this anymore… This much despair is…!”

She sighed.

...It was over, wasn’t it?

That’s how the game had to work. As the mastermind, she was always going to be caught. That’s how Danganronpa worked.

So what were all these conflicting, complex feelings deeper within?

_I’m going in. _

“S-Saihara-kun? Harukawa-san? What are you two doing in here?”

=

When the world blinked back, Kiibo found himself in the courtyard.

“Huh--” He looked around, left and right, then ruffled his own hair in frustration. “Aargh, she did it again!”

Kiibo ran back into the building.

_Even though I know Shirogane-san’s the one who has most control over this place, I don’t know exactly how or why. We were knocked out before getting any explanation, so the only way we can figure it out is in the trial…_

He clicked his tongue, mentally kicking himself._ If only you’d used those rockets from the start. Destroyed the door from the very first investigation, then none of this would’ve had to happen…!_

Guilt clenched in his chest.

_It’s your fault as much as it is hers._

Just then, he heard another voice. 

“Kiibo!”

=

“Kiibo!” Yumeno called out, catching up to him. “Kiibo, you’re--”_ safe,_ Yumeno couldn’t say, she was so damn tired and winded from running this much. “Where are you going?!”

“Gonna blow up the bookshelf door in the library!” Kiibo shouted back as he ran, and Yumeno nearly bit off her tongue as she let out a strangled yell back.

“Huh?!” 

“It’s my fault!” Kiibo yelled, glowing turquoise as he brought back his blasters. “If I’d just used these from the start--”

“I’m ticked off you didn’t mention that back then either, but what’s done is done! If you’re gonna blow it up now, then do it without all the self-hatred and past regret!” Yumeno yelled back, voice shrill. “Cry if you have to, but focus on the future!”

“When did you become some sort of self-help counselor?!” Kiibo yelled back, pushing open the door to the library and running towards the bookshelf door. The two of them skidded to the stop.

Yumeno panted, hands on her knees “When you make mistakes and lose loved ones… when someone else’s actions tear into your own life… of course I’ll feel regret. But I don’t want anyone else to feel the same way!”

Kiibo patted her once on the head. “You’ve… really grown up.”

Yumeno beamed at him, grinning breathlessly. “Light it up, Kiibo. Shirogane won’t get away!”

He lit up the blasters, aiming and firing it at the door--

\--and it exploded, leaving the mastermind’s room wide open.

=

“Quit followin’ me!” Momota snapped as he walked through the Death Road.

“You followed me here first,” Ouma pointed out, and _damn it, _he was right. Momota just hadn’t wanted to leave Ouma alone, even though they’d all confirmed the other boy wasn’t the mastermind. 

“Then quit annoyin’ me!” Momota tried to speedwalk faster.

“But I _love _annoying you,” Ouma fluttered his lashes, _somehow_ managing to keep up and attach himself to Momota like a leech despite his clear lack of physical training, and Momota really had to wonder what the _fuck _Saihara saw in this guy. “A-Are you saying you don’t want me to be your irritating little assistant, Momota-chan? Waaaaaaaaaahh! You broke my heeeeaaaaaart!”

“I’ll break yer fuckin’ _face_ if ya don’t jus’ help with the investigation like a normal person,” Momota scowled petulantly, knowing full well he didn’t intend to act upon the threat. Ouma only giggled that horse-like laugh of his in reply; Momota sighed, long-suffering.

“This is the only place that nobody’s actually been in,” Momota said, continuing to walk. “Your Ultimate lab.”

“Thanks for the shounen anime narration, Momota-chan. I’m grateful for your mansplaining, really,” Ouma twirled his hair. He yawned. “I hadn’t the faintest clue my lab was here! Whatever would I do without you.”

Momota really,_ really_ wanted to give this little snitch a piece of his mind--

\--but now just wasn’t the time. He hated how easily Ouma had been able to escape retribution for all the shit he did, wanted to yell at him about it, but now wasn’t the time to confront Ouma about how downright _weird_ it was, how they were acting like normal frenemies again instead of… whatever the hell they’d ended up as during and after the fourth trial.

For now, they had to focus on finding whatever they could in Ouma’s lab. 

They reached the door.

“So how do ya open it?” Momota asked, hands on his hips.

Ouma blinked at him. “You put an ‘L’ on your forehead with your fingers, say ‘I’m a stupid loserface’ three times, then slap yourself once,” he replied without missing a beat.

Momota put the L on his forehead and opened his mouth to speak before realizing that Ouma was fucking with him. “God damn you--”

Ouma was cackling. “You’re so _gullible, _holy shit!”

“If ya don’t know, then don’t say shit!” Momota grit his teeth.

But Ouma had moved ahead. “Mmh… I guess… if it’s my lab, the way I’d have it open is…” He raised his knuckles and knocked on the door normally.

_That’s it? _It was stupid, but right as Momota was about to berate him, the door clicked open. He sighed. _Of course Ouma’s lab would be the one to have such a stupid way required to open it..._

They both entered. 

It was… childish, for a lack of better words. It looked less like a supreme leader’s lair and more like a child’s idea of what a supreme leader’s headquarters should look like. From the toys and trinkets all over the room to the model car and toy plane hanging about, Ouma’s lab looked like a strange caricature of whatever his talent was truly meant to be.

Momota looked out of the corner of his eye to see Ouma’s reaction and found none.

He turned around, not in the mood to pursue a conversation.

There… wasn’t actually much there in terms of evidence, which was somewhat of a surprise. He’d expected at least _something_ unique since this room had been blocked off for so long.

On one of the desks, Momota spotted a strange looking book. He walked closer towards it, gingerly picking it up and flipping it open.

> To Our Egomaniacal Supreme Leader
> 
> From DICE
> 
> I put some pictures here so you wouldn’t be lonely while dorming :D It shouldn’t be hard to tell which one some of the younger kids helped on. 
> 
> We’ll miss you, Kokichi. Don’t forget about us. I’ll stay in touch.
> 
> Love, Kotori

A photo album from his so-called evil organization. Maybe Kotori was a girlfriend or something? She seemed close to him.

Momota flipped again. 

It was just… innocent, fun photographs. There were only ten different kids in the photos, and all the captions seemed to suggest that they were family-- in that case, Kotori must’ve been Ouma’s sister.

Momota furrowed his brows, a strange twisting feeling in his chest.

(It was confusing and upsetting all at once, how_ human_ Ouma seemed from this photo album despite all of the inhumane things he had done before.)

He still didn’t know exactly what had happened between Ouma and Saihara personally while the latter had been kidnapped. Sure, there was the whole video of Amami they’d seen, and the so-called Survivor Perk Monopad Amami had received… but they seemed so much more intimate.

The change afterwards was clear as day, and it frustrated him, though he was loathe to admit it. 

He looked over at the next page.

_Is this… his dad?_ Momota furrowed his brows, feeling slightly dizzy from a headache. The man in the next photograph definitely _looked_ like Ouma. Familiar dark hair and light purple eyes… but at the same time, Momota somehow knew that he couldn’t be the other boy’s father, even though the man had a warm smile and a friendly hand placed on Ouma’s shoulder. 

Momota’s eyes wandered to the caption below, written in the same handwriting as all the others:

> _Kokichi-niichan with Headmaster Kirigiri Jin-san, Hope’s Peak Academy Opening Ceremony 20XX._

“Where did you get that?” Ouma’s sharp, stinging voice cut through his thoughts, startlingly close to him despite Momota not having heard any footsteps.

Without waiting for another word, Ouma snatched the book from his hands, then boredly flipped through the pages.

“Oi,” Momota growled. “I was in the middle of investigatin’--!”

The words died at the tip of Momota’s tongue.

=

Ouma paused on the page.

All of them were in different school uniforms. They looked _clean._ Their faces were clean, their hair was properly combed, and they were all grinning at the camera or otherwise pestering him, ruffling his hair or pinching him, laughing in the picture.

He could count each and every one of them. Kouji beaming. Kozue crying from happiness. Kousuke giving peace signs. Kouta flipping off the camera with one hand and reaching over to pinch Ouma’s cheek with the other. Koyuki giving him a hug from the side. Kohei and Kosei sticking their tongues out at the camera. Kou, the absolute twit, ruffling Ouma’s hair, so Ouma’s eyes were a little squinty on one end and his hair was a mess even as he grinned.

It was presumably Kotori’s hand that was in the foreground, making a heart with her thumb and index finger as she took the picture.

(Ouma never wanted to stop looking at the photograph.)

...They were all _smiling._

He looked below at the caption Kotori had written. 

> _Celebrating Kokichi-niichan getting into Hope’s Peak Academy!_

_This annoying lab… And this photo, plus the photo of Jin-san on the next page-- _His nose filled with the scent of antiseptic again. _I know this photo album, but I’ve never willingly shown it to anyone. So why--_

And then, for a split second, he remembered something.

He had been carefully turning the pages of the album after class, when--

_‘Are those your friends, Ouma-kun?’_

Ouma couldn’t stop the squeak he’d emitted, but he had calmly put the album back in his desk and tilted his head up to look at who had snuck up on him. _‘Shirogane-chan?’_

Shirogane had blinked, then smiled. _‘Sorry, you’re always staring at something under your desk, so I got curious.'_

_‘They’re my underlings,’ _Ouma had sniffed. _‘Why? What’s it to you? Go off, run, shoo! Don’t you have a job to do?! Stop Amami-chan from bungee jumping off the roof again!’_

Shirogane had soured, as if remembering something troublesome. _‘He’s never gonna stop, no matter how many heart attacks it gives me,’_ she had sighed. She’d stammered. _‘Hey, wait, you’re changing the subject!’_

_‘My evil organization is top secret, Shirogane-chan,’_ Ouma had decided he was now intent on pulling his naive classmate’s leg. _‘If you pry, you die.’_

But to his surprise, Shirogane had only giggled. _‘...You seemed fond of them.’_

_‘Fond?’_ Ouma had repeated, nearly disgusted. _‘Ewww!’_

But Shirogane had been distracted by something else. _‘Ah-- Amami-kun, don’t you dare try climbing up the side of the building! Tsumiki-senpai will get troubled if she has to clean up your scrapes and scratches again--!’_

She’d run out the classroom, chasing Amami, who seemed intent on climbing the building with his adventuring tools no matter how much Shirogane nagged.

_‘Momota-kun, don’t cheer him on, you jerk!’ _Shirogane’s voice had began to fade away in the distance.

_‘There’s no stoppin’ a man’s heart, Shirogane!’ _Momota had cackled._ ‘Leave him ta follow his dreams!’_

_‘What, dreams of grievous injury?!’_

_Good riddance,_ Ouma had thought at the time, letting out a sigh of relief as his classmates left. He had sat back down and taken out the album again, tracing the edges of the photo and its caption.

_‘Fond, huh…’_

And then Momota’s weird, ugly goatee-ed face brought him back to reality. “HELLO?” Momota waved his obnoxious, tanned hand in front of Ouma’s face. “The fuck, you looked like you were hypnotized or some shit.”

“Your breath smells,” Ouma lied, casually setting down the album and walking away. He began to weep crocodile tears. “How dare you try to poison me with your nasty astronaut stink while we’re away from everyone else?!”

Momota squawked. “S-Shut up, you! What were ya lookin’ at?!”

Ouma’s eyes wandered back to the album. _Shirogane only really saw it for a split second back at Hope’s Peak, so does that mean she’s the one who was able to place it in this simulation?_

Instead, Ouma decided to deflect. “Sheesh, yelling at me from the start?” He pouted, eyes welling with crocodile tears. “Clearly someone doesn’t care about the investigation at all!”

=

_This fucker hasn’t changed one bit. _

“You really think seeing some nostalgic photo album’s gonna make me feel bad for you all of a sudden?” Momota snapped, furiously furrowing his brows. “Or the fact that you looked caring just looking at those pictures? You think one little sympathetic thing’s gonna make me forgive _everything _you’ve done?” He grit his teeth. “Eat shit.”

“Wasn’t asking for pity or sympathy, Momota-chan,” Ouma chirped back. His face darkened. “Or forgiveness that I know I don’t deserve.”

Momota loosened the grip of his fist, then turned around. “I don’t get you,” he bit out at last. “What happened while we were separated, why you’ve changed--” _\--and why I feel like I shouldn’t hate you anymore, even though I’m still angry at everything you’ve done._

“...Are you always this much of a sap?” Ouma nearly scoffed, and Momota really, _really_ wanted to kick this guy’s ass--

\--but then Ouma sighed. “Fine. Honestly, I don’t like you either. If it weren’t for Shuichi, I wouldn’t have seen the point. I’d wanted to investigate this place alone, but… the only way you can defeat despair is if you have hope _together.”_

_ **Oooh, well said. I told some of your other classmates just a few minutes ago, but intangible concepts like hope and despair are hard to get.** _

_“Eek!” _Momota let out a loud shriek, jumping into the air; Ouma snapped his head around, looking for the voice’s source. 

_ **But more than that… It’s impossible to try to understand one’s own hypocritical mind, especially when it gets warped trying to protect itself. Upupu… You get it, right?** _

And for some reason, Momota flashed back to the look on Ouma’s face when Gonta had yelled at him after the fourth trial, right before his execution.

_‘Gonta knows you’re not a bad person at heart. Not by a long shot.’_

(...Maybe the only reason Momota had been upset was because of his own hypocrisy.) 

“I still don’ like you,” Momota boomed upfront. “But… neither of us can afford to lie to each other or to ourselves. Truce?” He held out a hand. “Just for while we’re here.”

Ouma paused. Then, tentatively, he took Momota’s hand.

_He’s still sorta pure, thinking of everything in hard blacks and whites… but both of us have changed, somehow. Because of Maki for me, and prolly because of Shuichi for him..._

“Cool,” Momota grunted. He froze. “If you tell me now that you licked your hand or somethin’ gross right before this, I swear to fuck--”

“Nishishi…” Ouma snickered. “You’re so distrusting, Momota.”

=

Momota wiped his hand on his jacket for good measure. “Alright! So! I got a headache from that photo album,” he announced, as if he were some blaring idiotic newscaster. 

“...” Ouma stared at him, briefly entertaining the thought of Momota transforming into a megaphone, then sighed. “Well, same. It’s real and from my memories, but I’d never shown it to anyone else here.” He paused. “Except Shirogane-chan, who only accidentally caught a peek while we were at Hope’s Peak. Shuichi told you guys that this whole killing game is virtual back in the gym, so clearly only someone who knew about the album would’ve been able to somehow program it into this place…”

“Shirogane…” Momota bit his lip. “Now that you mention it, there was a weird psychology book in her lab that I found once, while we were looking for Shuichi… that morphed and talked to me.”

“You really do have dust bunnies for brains if you think books can talk,” Ouma commented airily. Momota clicked his tongue.

“Seriously, that one weird voice kept talking to me from within the book! Shirogane passed out back then _and_ apparently while we were investigatin’ Iruma’s death, it’s all weird--”

_ **Oooh! You remembered our previous meeting, Kai-Kai! Aaaaghhhh, I hate you! Looking through a maiden’s diary like that! Kyaaaaaa! I can’t handle the stress! I keep getting flashbacks of Amami-kun! The despair’s too much for meeeee!** _

“Who the fuck’s _Kai-Kai?!”_ Momota turned red, stumbling and latching onto Ouma’s shoulder from newfound dizziness. “The fuck--”

“Flashbacks of--” Ouma wobbled, nauseous, holding onto Momota’s sleeve for leverage with one hand and covering his nose with the other. “--Amami-chan…?”

_**Upupu… Well, Little Mister Masculinity Problems, if you two are feeling sick in the head, I’m always willing to take new patients,**_ the voice came back, a quiet coo, and both boys froze.

Ouma let out a shaky breath._ There it is again… that weird, instinctive feeling as if something’s gonna rip me apart from the inside out if I make any sudden moves…_ A quick glance at Momota was more than enough to prove that he felt the same way. 

_**Oh, you two are adorable.**_ The voice giggled, and the room itself seemed to morph, strange and goo-like as it wavered between forms. _**I love toying with the experiments!**_

“Masculinity problems…” Momota’s face soured.

Ouma sighed, deciding that ignoring the voice was the only way that they’d be able to move on with the investigation. “Now that we’re talking about her… Y’know… Shirogane-chan also seemed reeeeal stiff when everyone realized I wasn’t the mastermind back at the gym,” he twirled his hair. “It really makes a guy wonder… what’s up with that?”

“Yumeno tol’ me ‘n Maki that she suspected Shirogane earlier than that,” Momota replied gruffly. “She even used a blue handkerchief the same color as Shirogane’s hair an’ tried to cue us, saying that if anything happened to her the handkerchief would be a clue…”

_Smart girl,_ Ouma thought._ Though it’s too late for her to be smart now! She’s already cemented herself as a dumbass in my eyes!_

“Like I was sayin’ before… While we were lookin’ for Shuichi,” Momota glared for a split second out of the corner of his eye, then continued-- “Shirogane passed out, and while that happened, my illness disappeared. It came back once she woke up.”

_Hm…?_ Ouma blinked, then tilted his head. “Then is she passed out now?”

Momota blinked back. “Whaddaya mean?”

_Fuckin’ sheesh, he’s slow._ “Momoron-chan,” Ouma said emphatically, “You haven’t coughed once since Kiiboy announced the investigation.”

The way Momota’s face changed showed that apparently it hadn’t dawned on him til Ouma had said it. He breathed in, then out, with no difficulties, eyes shining. 

_He’s got his emotions all over his face, _Ouma mused. _‘It’s really gone?!’ Like that…_

“Hey, wait-- _‘Momoron’?_ The hell!” Momota looked offended, and Ouma snickered.

_**Took you long enough to notice,**_ the voice giggled again, and then turned completely quiet.

“Okay… okay. Whatever.” Momota took in a deep breath. “We done here, Ouma?”

“Nothing else here, so yeah,” Ouma replied. “...You’re surprisingly more reliable than I’d have pegged you to be.”

“Pegging?” Momota frowned. “Hey, save that shit for when we get out. We’re investigatin’.”

Ouma stared at him, not even bothering to hide his disgust as he scoffed and walked towards the door again. “I take it back, you’re stupid as shit.”

“Jokin’, dude!” Momota laughed. “I was jokin’!”

“Whatever you’d like to tell yourself,” Ouma jabbed back. He sighed as they left. “So.”

Momota was also quiet as they walked back out and into the courtyard, evidence clearly now in mind. “So…”

Ouma’s mouth twitched._ How did I not see it sooner? Forget Momota… the only idiot here is me, running around in a tizzy when the answer was right fucking there in front of me. _

“So what?” Momota pressed again. 

“So,” Ouma smirked, amused and pissed off all at once. “Shirogane, huh?”

=

Saihara and Harukawa coughed, waving the dust away from their eyes. 

“Saihara and Maki?” Yumeno asked, confused. Kiibo put away his rocket boosters and walked in with her. 

“Shuichi and I found a hidden entrance to this place in the supply closet in the girl’s bathroom,” Harukawa summarized shortly. “We found some evidence after snooping around a bit. Shirogane came in right before you blew the door open.”

“So, Shirogane-san,” Kiibo turned to her. “You weren’t with Yumeno-san or myself, which means you didn’t come from the main entrance. How did you know about the secret entrance Saihara-kun and Harukawa-san came through?” 

“I-- I just came here to get cleaning supplies,” Shirogane’s voice shook, horrified as she looked at the room around them. “What _is_ this place…?”

“The mastermind’s room, connected to the library as you can see,” Saihara explained patiently, despite the ire rising in his heart. 

“Oh…” Shirogane shook her head. “A-Anyway, I had to go to the bathroom, but when I walked in, it smelled bad, so I went into the stall and saw Saihara-kun’s throw-up everywhere-- that’s why I went into the supply closet. I was also looking for some clean-up tools, and then when I leaned against the wall, it just… revealed a hallway.”

_**Upupu… can you imagine it?**_ A voice spoke up. 

Yumeno and Kiibo let out audible groans and growls of frustration. Harukawa and Saihara, on the other hand, whirled around. 

Saihara couldn’t find the speaker. “What--” 

_**Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki, Yumeno Himiko, Kiibo, and Shirogane Tsumugi, all in the same room,**_the voice called out their names one by one in glee.** _Can you imagine it? Can you picture a dream, in another universe, if the only people left after all this time and all this despairful death were you five?_**

The five of them froze, staring at one another. A strange chill ran up Saihara’s spine. 

_The five of us… if things had gone differently? What does that have to do with anything?_

_ **If only your show had worked out that way!** _

(Shirogane trembled.)

Harukawa shook her head. “We’re done here,” she interrupted. “Shuichi and I found everything we had to, and the Monopads should have everything else. Let’s find Kaito and Ouma and leave.”

Yumeno blinked. “Really?”

“Maki’s got the right idea,” Saihara nodded. He took in a deep breath, collecting himself again. “I think we’re ready for the trial.”

=

And so they all met in front of the fountain, for what Saihara hoped would be the final time.

“We didn’t find much in terms of evidence, but we collected our thoughts a bit,” Momota explained. 

“We’re done, basically,” Ouma sniffed. 

“Nyeh… Same here,” Yumeno sighed. 

“I think… we can piece everything together,” Kiibo said quietly. 

“A lot’s happened these past few days… and especially within the past twenty-four hours,” Saihara began, wincing as he realized just how much had happened. “But now, we’ll definitely end this game.”

“Well said,” Harukawa smiled slightly. 

“Shuichi,” Momota grinned brightly. “You’re one of my best friends, y’know?”

“Aw…” Saihara beamed. “Thanks Kai--”

Momota scowled, face darkening; Harukawa cracked her knuckles next to him. “So after this is all done, I’m gonna kick yer ass into orbit for pullin’ that shit earlier.”

“Urk--” Saihara grimaced, frantically waving his arms about in apology. “I’m sorry! I really am, it was hurtful and manipulative and I promise I didn’t mean what I said--”

Ouma hid his snickers behind his scarf.

Saihara flushed indignantly “Ouma-kun, don’t laugh at me--”

“Nyeh...” Yumeno shifted, gaining all of their attention. “The elevator’s open.”

Sure enough, they were. Everyone filed in. 

Once the doors closed, the elevator shuttled them down.

(It was quiet, and much roomier now that there were so few of them left.)

It was strange, Saihara thought_. Even though Monokuma and Monophanie are both seemingly gone… the elevators still work? There’s a lot that can be attributed to the game being a virtual simulation, but… if the ringleader’s mascot persona is gone, then who’s controlling everything, and how? _

_Shirogane-san?_ Saihara looked at her, but she kept her gaze directly in front of herself, tapping her fingers against her skirt. _She doesn’t look like she’s trying hard to control it. Is it just… a mental thing?_

For some reason, the chilling voice that echoed everywhere came to mind again. 

_ **‘Can you imagine it?’** _

Saihara clenched his fist by his side as the elevator door opened, all seven of them ushering themselves out into their own trial stands.

_Truth or lies, imagination or not… We’ll tear this game apart and escape this virtual death trap with our own hands._

Saihara took in a deep breath.

“Alright,” he began. “Let’s start.”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip shirogane lmao. In many more ways than one...
> 
> The final trial is up next! It'll be 2 or 3 chapters long (I'm not sure if the third one really counts as "trial", but I'm gonna roll with it!!!), so look forward to that! Someday! Eventually! I've more or less given up hope on being able to write weekly, but rest assured I will not leave this fic hanging!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms.


	48. 6-2. My Game Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true killer, exposed.
> 
> Season 53, revealed.
> 
> The mastermind, hijacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Once again, after over a month! My mental health is... honestly pretty terrible, but there's little holding me back otherwise. I'm taking each day as it comes. I'm looking forward to completing this fic. Thank you all so much for sticking with me and this story. 
> 
> The trial!!!! Dun dun dun. This is a three-parter, but will not be posted at the same time. 
> 
> Let's go!

“I think it’s clear who we’re after by now,” Harukawa narrowed her eyes.

Momota’s gaze was unreadable as he folded his arms across his chest. “Maki’s right.”

(Shirogane didn’t speak.)

“The mastermind’s identity is all but obvious,” Kiibo sighed.

Yumeno nodded. “Saihara and Maki found evidence in that hidden room in the library, so…”

“Let’s start with this, then,” Harukawa breathed out. “Gonta mentioned once that you had a bag of ‘allergy medications’. We found the same bag in the library’s room, but the only thing in it was a device used to create flashback lights.”

“Monokuma or Monophanie must’ve stolen my bag,” Shirogane replied quietly. 

It was such a weak argument, Saihara could feel something angry flare up within him. But no matter: this was the last trial, and he would take charge. “There was also a clean, bloodless shot put ball in the trash can in that hidden room,” he stated. “It had pink fibers that match Kaede’s sweater, and black fibers that match Amami-kun’s wristbands and shirt.”

“Your point?” Shirogane tilted her head.

Saihara grit his teeth. “Along with it, there was a bloody Monopad that looks different from the normal ones. Ouma-kun and I saw a video in Amami-kun’s lab from Amami-kun that says he has a ‘Survivor’s Perk Monopad’ that he got for surviving a previous killing game-- which means the bloody Monopad was Amami-kun’s Survivor Perk Monopad.”

“It’s true,” Ouma confirmed, twirling his hair nonchalantly. “Though the laptop and USB with the video exploded.”

“In other words,” Momota’s voice was thin from shock. “It proves that someone took both of them away from his body after his death.”

“The culprit couldn’t have been Kaede,” Saihara continued, voice rising. “Because both the bloodless shot put ball and the bloody Monopad were already missing by the time Kaito, Kaede, Chabashira-san, and I first discovered his body.”

“Speaking of which,” Harukawa tilted her chin up, “Shirogane. You’re the only one here who didn’t actually have a proper alibi for that case.”

“Angie, Toujo, and Hoshi all suggested that there was a hidden passageway to the secret room during the first trial,” Ouma counted them on his fingers. “And that the mastermind hid in the room, avoided the sensors, and then killed Rantaro before joining the others using their passageway.”

“The fact that this so-called passageway was in the first floor _girl’s_ bathroom just proves it,” Yumeno clenched her fists. “Your bathroom alibi could’ve just been a half-lie!” 

“We all decided that Akamatsu-san’s setup was what killed him! And besides, I have my cospox alibi!” Shirogane retaliated. 

“If the shot put ball that Kaede set up was what killed him, the injury should’ve been on top of his head, not oddly on the side of it the way his actually was,” Saihara narrowed his eyes. “It was dismissable back then, but with the evidence we have now, it has to be you.”

“You have no way of knowing his head angle at the time,” Shirogane pointed out. “He may have been looking right at the camera, or positioned slightly to the left or right of the camera. Any number of things could’ve made it so that his head was angled or turned a certain way before he was hit by the shot put ball. Besides, I have my cospox alibi! I couldn’t have been the one to hit him; I can’t cosplay--”

“You wouldn’t have had to cosplay at all,” Saihara interrupted. “If he was hit in the back or the side of the head, he wouldn’t have been able to fully see what was striking him. There would be no need for you to cosplay or even disguise yourself as someone else if you were hitting him from behind, because as soon as you strike him with something that heavy, he’d be dead, no problem. Your argument about cospox preventing you from being his killer is irrelevant and wrong.”

Shirogane stood silently.

“You struck and killed Amami Rantaro-kun from behind,” Saihara accused once more, voice strong yet full of grief. “And then framed Akamatsu Kaede for his murder and had her wrongfully executed. Didn’t you, Shirogane-san?!”

=

Amami had to go confront Shirogane. Or whoever the mastermind actually was at this point.

Even though it was important to trust others… Even though Naegi and the others had taught him to let go of the weight in his heart, he had to do this alone, and fast.

(Right?)

He’d excused himself from the strategy meeting, making his way to the library while using the Survivor Perk Monopad. He entered, then stood in front of one of the bookshelves. 

_According to the Monopad… there’s a room hidden behind this shelf. _Tucking the Monopad in his underarm, Amami swung the bookshelf open, revealing the door. _Now all I need to do is--_

A bright flash interrupted him. 

Amami blinked. “Huh…?” His eyes widened when he realized what it was. _A camera--! _He ran over and reached out to it, but the camera flashed again, bringing spots before his eyes. “Shit…” he rubbed his eyes with his free arm.

_What is this camera? Why is it here? Who even put it here? Agh, I told them not to go and do anything unnecessary--_

The cacophonous music was still blaring from all the screens and speakers, to the point that Amami could barely even hear his thoughts-- but the loud ‘thunk’ of a metal ball barely brushing past him was unmistakable.

Amami looked at the shot put ball that had rolled hardly a few centimeters from his feet, then looked up at where it’d come from. It wasn’t at all hard to figure out the camera’s purpose from there. “Close call,” he muttered, then bent down to pick it up. The metal ball rubbed against his wristbands and clothes as he leaned back up--

\--only to see Shirogane Tsumugi’s reflection in the camera lens, shot put ball in hand as she crept behind him. 

It had happened too fast.

Amami’s eyes widened, breath hitching as he whirled around in terror. “SHIROGANE-SA--”

_‘It hurts more when it comes from a friend,’ _Enoshima Junko’s gleeful, giggling voice rang out in his memories. _‘Doesn’t it, Amami Rantaro-kun?!’ _

And then Shirogane swung.

=

Amami Rantaro crumpled to the floor, dead in an instant. The ridiculous music had stopped the instant he became a lifeless corpse, and Shirogane was left alone, breathing and heartbeat wild in a vacuum of silence.

(His blood had disappeared from her hair, skin, and clothes as soon as it had splashed onto her.)

Shirogane carefully placed the shot put ball next to Amami’s head, then gently rolled it, allowing for the illusion that it had hit him and rolled away on its own. She picked up Akamatsu’s failed shot put ball, then pried Amami’s barely-warm fingers off of the Survivor Perk Monopad enough for her to take that too.

Were there not a significant risk of getting caught where she stood, she would’ve stared at his face longer.

He looked so mysteriously sad, even in death.

Shirogane turned around, swinging the bookshelf shut behind her as she went back to her hidden room. She dumped the Monopad and the shot put ball in the trash can, then went back through the girl’s bathroom to rid her hands and nails of any lingering blood.

(Neither her sins nor her nail polish would wash off, no matter how hard she tried to scrub away her memories of them.)

The way he had grabbed her hand all those months ago, had tried to get her to go back so that he could deal with the weight of the killing game alone, the way his touch and care and tearful, tired eyes wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried--

“I suppose it does hurt more when it comes from a friend,” Shirogane murmured as she shook the water droplets off her hands, and then shut the faucet off. 

=

“There was also a list of ‘threats’ to eliminate in the hidden room,” Harukawa continued. “And the list only makes sense from your perspective, Shirogane.”

Shirogane’s hands shook by her sides.

“Amami, Akamatsu, Hoshi, Toujo, Angie, Shinguji, Iruma, Ouma, and Kaito,” Harukawa listed off. “You categorized all of them as threats that had to die. You claimed Yumeno, Chabashira, myself, Gonta, and yourself as people who could live or die either way. And you claimed Shuichi and Kiibo as people who had to survive to the end.”

“Why would I put myself in the either-or category?” Shirogane pressed. 

“I don’t know that, but--” Kiibo sighed, brows furrowed. “The threats make sense. All of these people either implicated you in the first trial or could’ve been considered a nuisance to your schemes.”

It was maddening. Maddening that Shirogane didn’t seem at all bothered even by the fact that the trial was clearly going against her, and was clearly not going to go in her favor from the beginning. 

Saihara couldn’t_ stand_ it.

“Amami-kun had his memories intact as a survivor of a previous game-- the bloody Survivor Perk Monopad in the bookshelf room proves it-- which means he would’ve been able to help the rest of us amnesiacs if he stayed alive for long,” Saihara began to list off, unable to stop himself. “Kaede took on a leader-like role and made us all believe that we did have a chance at escape, and she was planning to kill the mastermind, which wouldn’t be conducive to a killing game. Ouma-kun said that Amami-kun's Monopad shouldn’t have been in his pocket when he had just been holding it in his hand, and that it was weird. Nearly everything he did was against you, the mastermind, and changed people’s moods in a way you didn’t want.”

“Saihara-kun--” Shirogane attempted to interrupt, suddenly looking more taken aback.

_(Good, _Saihara thought. _Good. The worst kinds of killers are the ones who don’t care at all. The ones who don’t regret a thing or even bother trying to hide.)_

“Shinguji-kun mentioned nearly from the start that you went to the bathroom and had no alibi,” Saihara continued to talk over Shirogane, heated. “And right before he was executed, he pointed in your general direction, yelling and screaming about how he knew he was right all along. Kaito mentioned that Amami-kun used the same excuse as you only to turn up dead, and he tried to cheer us up after the second trial, which ruins the despair we should’ve felt. Toujo-san suggested you went to the bathroom to disguise yourself, and suggested that there was a secret passage aside from the library entrance to your hidden room. Iruma-san confessed that her headaches were stronger when you were around. Angie-san and Hoshi-kun both pointed out that the mastermind could've hidden in the bookshelf the whole time and waited.”

“That’s a coincidence,” Shirogane smiled shakily, her entire visage unsteady. 

"How funny, then," Saihara said, trembling, _furious-- _"that nearly all of them are dead now.” He grit his teeth, a lone tear streaming down his cheek. “How funny that all of their names appeared on that list of so-called ‘threats’ that the mastermind wanted gone. What a terrible, convenient coincidence.”

“Angie tried to stop the game because she realized this whole thing was virtual,” Yumeno bit her lip, eyes welling with tears. “Everything she did with the Student Council and the ritual was because she was trying to help end the game! And Tenko--” Yumeno grit her teeth. “Tenko was just a dismissable sacrifice, huh?!”

“Gonta too,” Momota clenched his fist. 

(Ouma was silent, face blank as he stared at Shirogane.)

“Hoshi-kun was killed by Toujo-san, who was later executed,” Saihara continued rattling on, counting each person on his fingers. “Angie-san was killed by Shinguji-kun, who was also later executed. Iruma-san was murdered. Ouma-kun was nearly executed. Kaito nearly died from a serious, bloody illness that he only happened to get after the second trial.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?!” Yumeno shouted tearfully, slamming her fist against her trial stand and startling the others into hushed tones. “Shirogane--” she hiccuped. “We’re friends, so why? Why would you make a list like that, or even start up a game like this?!”

“Gh--!” Shirogane clutched her head, seemingly in pain. “It-- wasn’t me!” she clicked her tongue back. “I really did find that passageway on accident!”

“You said ya went ta get cleaning supplies,” Momota furrowed his brows. “And then you happened to come across the same hidden door to the room Maki ‘n Shuichi found even though you’re clearly the mastermind and prolly just went there directly.” 

Yumeno trembled. “Why won’t you just admit you’re lying?” she whispered.

“There’s no proof that that wasn’t what happened!” Shirogane protested. “I smelled the vomit, I went into the stall and saw the vomit, and then I tried to clean it up because it was gross!”

“Okay then, Shirogane,” Harukawa leaped at the opportunity, eye gleaming. “What stall?”

Shirogane froze. “Huh?”

“What stall was it in?” Harukawa tapped her foot impatiently. “There are only three stalls in that bathroom, so you can’t just pretend there were too many for you to get mixed up.” Her face darkened. “Well? Did Shuichi throw up in the first stall, the middle stall, or the end stall?”

Shirogane stared. “I…”

“You said you went into the stall and saw it yourself,” Ouma scoffed, his smirk practically damning. “Don’t fucking lie to us.”

“The only reason why you wouldn’t have seen which stall it was in even though you said you did is if you went directly to the closet, already knowing that there was a passageway to a secret room there,” Kiibo continued.

“And the only way you would’ve already known about a passageway that was probably not even on the Ultimate Survivor’s Survivor Perk Monopad,” Saihara finished, “is if you were the mastermind yourself.”

Shirogane trembled.

Saihara took a deep breath. “Shirogane Tsumugi, you are the mastermind of this Killing Game.”

Deadly silence.

Then, Shirogane laughed. “Congratulations! You caught me!”

“So--” Ouma’s eyes widened.

“I killed Amami, framed Akamatsu, and am the mastermind of this killing game,” Shirogane’s smile wobbled. “Good job. Took you all long enough.”

It felt vindicating. But at the same time, it felt unsatisfying.

_Kaede was innocent the whole time._

“Why were Saihara-kun and I the only ones on the list of people you wanted to survive, then?” Kiibo demanded. “What point is there in not even guaranteeing your own survival?”

Shirogane giggled, eyes gleaming.

“Because without the detective and the audience camera, Danganronpa can’t go on.”

=

Being caught always hurt, but the show had to go on.

It still felt off to Shirogane, but no matter. The mastermind had to lose in the end. Maybe this was just how empty losing normally felt…

“Danganronpa?” Momota blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar title rolling off his tongue. 

“A killing game reality TV show!” Shirogane announced. “This is Danganronpa season 53, brought to you by Team Danganronpa and broadcasted to audiences worldwide live via our audience videocamera robot, Kiibo.” 

“Huh?” Harukawa scrunched up her nose.

“Your memories and talents are all fake,” Shirogane continued, matter-of-fact. 

This was good. It was perfect, actually-- the shock, the twist, the fiction of it all--

“That’s not true,” Kiibo said strongly, and the dream shattered.

Shirogane blinked, taking in the six other faces before her.

_Wait a minute… why do none of them look remotely surprised?_

=

“I didn’t say anything before just to see what sort of excuse you’d end up giving,” Kiibo admitted. “But… my memories have all come back.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “My name is Iidabashi Kiichiro, the Ultimate Roboticist from Hope’s Peak Academy’s 79th class.” He then pointed at Shirogane, accusatory. “And Shirogane-san-- this entire reality TV show of yours is a delusion.”

(Saihara had to nearly stop himself from pumping a fist and yelling, _‘I FUCKING KNEW IT!’)_

Shirogane looked… annoyed? No, some other emotion-- but Saihara couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“No, it’s fictional,” she chirped, bringing out a remote out of thin air and pointing it at some strange screen that wasn’t behind her a minute ago. “Here, some of your audition videos!”

It… was Akamatsu. And Saihara. And Momota. The longer the clips went on, the more shocked and horrified Saihara and everyone else in the trial room were. 

“Even Ouma auditioned, you know?” Shirogane clicked another button on her remote. Certainly, it was Ouma in the new video, but he looked smaller-- the grandiose, confident supreme leader was nowhere to be seen.

"My name is [CENSORED], and I want to be part of Danganronpa because I want to die."

The tape fast-forwarded. "Constantly facing all the bullies and abusers of the world... I've had enough. I don't want them to lay their hands all over me anymore..." His left eye twitched, frighteningly wide. "I love this show a lot, so I've done my research. You erase candidates' memories before they play, don't you?” He shivered. “So make me forget. Make me forget all the times they beat me up and broke me down. Make me forget everything," he slowly grew hysterical, laughing as he continued.

The Ouma in the video-- Shuichi _refused_ to think of that apparition as the Ouma he'd known this whole time-- clawed at his neck. "Let me forget they ever fucking existed, and then let me die in the most glorious way possible, as a final fuck you to both my tormentors and to my own worthless existence...! Please..."

He was off the hinges, painfully so, and it showed.

But... even this was obviously a lie. Saihara could see it clearly-- and if the others looked past the horrific words being spoken by the person in the video, they’d definitely be able to see it too. The props and costumes in the background.

Even that aside, Saihara would’ve known. 

_I don’t forgive Ouma-kun for what he did, but I understand why he did it. And no matter how paranoid he was… the real Ouma Kokichi would never have tried so hard and put in so much effort if he had truly wanted to die from the start. _

_I’ve known him… I’ve loved him for too long to believe anything different._

Saihara chanced a glance at the Ouma he knew in the trial room, unprepared for the shock that was very likely on the supreme leader's face. But all he saw was Ouma shaking, with tears of malice trailing down his cheeks.

Malice, venom, and pure, unfiltered rage.

"Oh, you've really done it now," Ouma growled at Shirogane, "you psychopathic fucking _bitch!"_

The trial room erupted. Shouting, Ouma climbed on top of his trial podium as if to lunge at her, with only Yumeno barely managing to hold him back. Momota, Harukawa, and Kiibo were yelling, trying to move to stop Ouma from attacking Shirogane. 

“Hold on--!” Yumeno strained.

“Shut it, Yumeno! Let go of me!” Ouma’s fists were balled by his sides, his brows furrowed in wrathful fury. “She deserves it--”

It was loud, far too loud, and Shirogane appeared to almost revel in the chaos. 

But Saihara knew._ It’s fake._

He had to draw everyone’s attention back to the discussion. Only one idea came to mind, and though it wasn’t very like him to get too loud… he figured it had to be worth a shot. 

Saihara’s mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile. _Kaede also used to get us all to quiet down by doing this… Heh._

He took in a deep breath, then bellowed: _**“ALL OF YOU, BE QUIET!”**_

Silence again. Ouma restrained himself, and Yumeno breathed a sigh of relief.

“These videos are also lies, Shirogane-san,” Saihara coughed, clearing his throat. “Everyone… Look at the background. All the stage props, backdrops, and even the costumes are fromShirogane-san’s lab. Not to mention, the video is angled from the top to hide the fact that Shirogane-san is taller or shorter than some of us in reality.” 

Shirogane trembled, more and more annoyed. “Why…!”

“All of this-- the videos, the show, everything-- it’s all Shirogane-san’s creation, and none of it matches up with our memories,” Saihara pointed out. “Including Kiibo-kun being a camera.”

“SHUT UP!” Shirogane yelled, clutching her head, and the trial room glitched along with her. “IT IS REAL! KIIBO’S INNER VOICE IS THE AUDIENCE SURVEY, OKAY?! THAT’S WHY IT DIDN’T MATTER IF I DIED!”

“Because as the audience surrogate, you would’ve made me become the backup mastermind,” Kiibo extrapolated. “Right?” He shook his head. “It’s not true, Shirogane-san. My inner voice was my human self, the part of me that retained my memories of before the killing game.”

“No, it’s not,” Shirogane’s breathing grew heavier, and the trial room itself grew more and more unsteady and intangible with her stress. “I’m telling the truth!”

“After my antenna was removed, I couldn’t hear myself-- until the world turned black, when it was somehow reset by you passing out and my personality became whole again,” Kiibo continued. “I truly do remember everything now. We are all students of Hope’s Peak. None of what you’re saying about a TV show is true-- what’s actually fictional is the Danganronpa that you’ve concocted!”

“SHUT UP!” Shirogane screamed. “YOU’RE NOT HUMAN! WE’RE NOT STUDENTS OF HOPE’S PEAK! THIS IS _MY GAME SHOW!”_

The trial room trembled and shook, earthquake-like; everyone yelled as they struggled to hold onto their trial stands.

“Shirogane-san, what’s--?!” Saihara scrambled to grip his stand. 

“The room’s morphing again--!” Harukawa grit her teeth.

Yumeno shrieked. “Why do my clothes keep switching back and forth to the Hope’s Peak uniform?!”

“Feelin’ dizzy, fuck--” Momota lurched.

“Aaagh, why is this entire fucking place tied to _her_ instability?!” Ouma snapped, knuckles white as he held onto his trial stand.

“YOU’RE ALL LIARS! NONE OF THIS IS TRUE! STOP_ LOOKING AT ME!”_ Shirogane screamed. The world around them kept morphing, glitching, altering blurring-- “HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY ISN’T REAL! ENOSHIMA JUNKO ISN’T REAL! MY LIFE IS PLAIN, AND ORDINARY, AND DESPAIR AND EVERYTHING IS JUST A FICTIONAL TV SHOW!”

“THESE MEMORIES AREN’T FAKE!” Kiibo yelled back. 

“It’s just a lie you’re telling yourself to avoid the pain, isn’t it?” Ouma cackled with laughter. He sighed. “I know. I know what it’s like to want to avoid a harsh truth, and what’s it like to lie to avoid it. I know now that it’s wrong to try and do that til the end of time!” He hissed, sucking in a breath. “So Shirogane, you can’t just escape into a game like this to get rid of the pain forever!”

“It’s not a lie,” Shirogane glared at him, furious. “This is Danganronpa!”

It hurt. As much as Saihara hated her for what she’d done… it hurt to see and hear all of this.

“We are survivors of the Tragedy,” Saihara clenched his fist, eyes watering. He looked down at his glitching, morphing uniform, then at the others, all wearing the same familiar dark brown color, and then faced Shirogane. “All sixteen of us were students of Hope’s Peak Academy. _Look at us!”_

“OPEN YOUR EYES, SHIROGANE!” Harukawa shouted. 

“DON’T RUN AWAY!” Yumeno clenched her fists, tears threatening to spill down her face. 

“YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM REALITY FOREVER!” Momota roared.

_“FACE THE TRUTH!” _Ouma yelled.

“I WON’T! _YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”_ Shirogane howled, hysterically scrunching her teary eyes shut. “NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY TO ME, I WON’T ACCEPT IT! IT’S FICTIONAL! IT NEVER HAPPENED!_** THE TRAGEDY WASN’T REAL!”**_

_ ** <strike>Tsumugi. Wake up.</strike> ** _

Amami had gripped her wrist, tears pooling at his chin as he yelled at her. _‘Shirogane-san, are you out of your mind?! Go back!’_

_ ** <strike>Wake up.</strike> ** _

She had bitten her lip, scared. _‘But if I leave you on the main floors, then you’ll--’_

He’d snapped. _‘Don’t worry about me. I don’t want anyone else getting involved in this-- this _slaughterfest. _Listen to Ikusaba-senpai’s warning and_ _go back to the others, okay?_

_ ** <strike>Wake up.</strike> ** _

She had argued with him a bit, but in the end, she’d given in._ ‘Amami-kun, please, don’t--’_

_‘Go! And stay safe. I care about all of you, so I don’t want you getting hurt because of me!’_

_ **WAKE UP--** _

“I DON’T FUCKING GET IT AT ALL!” Shirogane wailed, tears blurring her vision. “WHY IS HE ALWAYS THERE?! WHY DOES HE ALWAYS GIVE ME SUCH A _HEADACHE?!”_

“We’re your classmates, Shirogane-san,” Saihara sniffled quietly, half awed and half mortified at the sight of Shirogane’s memories playing back all around them. “Please. _Look at us.”_

“It’s just fiction, so why can I see him so clearly in my memories?” Shirogane whispered, crazed. “Hope’s Peak Academy is a lie. Enoshima Junko is a lie. The only truth is the Danganronpa I’ve always known and loved…”

“Shirogane-san,” Saihara repeated again, louder, stronger, firmer, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. _“Look at us.”_

“Shut up…! This is _my_ game show,” Shirogane grit her teeth. “So--”

“Aw, Cosplay-chan… You really still think that?” 

Everyone froze.

The same, sadistically sweet voice boomed all around them. “Upupu… Upupupupu! You really are delusional, darling. But it’s alright… I’m here for you now.”

“Ah…” Shirogane trembled. “Ahhh…”

“You guys might be thinking,_ ‘Not her! Not again! Ugh, how come she won’t stay dead?!’”_ She giggled, lab coat fluttering as she slowly appeared in the trial room, intentionally pitching her voice up. “Or you might be thinking, ‘_Fiiiiinally! It’s been nearly fifty goddamn chapters! If she didn’t show her stupid fucking face now I would’ve fucking rioted!’”_ She cackled.

She sighed. “Aww… But it’s so despairing knowing that it’s true, isn’t it? No matter what your reaction is, my adorable little underclassmen, I’m always gonna be here. Did you miss me?”

The trial room shook, wavy and wobbly. “No...” Shirogane stammered, sweating. Her eyes widened.

Saihara flashed back.

_‘So this is** where you were hiding,’**_she had curled her lip, voice sultry. _**‘How cute…’**_

She had been standing in the doorway, light blindingly framed around her. Shirogane Tsumugi stood by her side, eyes void of light. 

Saihara had felt utterly paralyzed. It was inescapable, claustrophobic; ice-cold fear had run through his veins. _We have to get out we have to get out we have to get out we have to get--_

_‘Mukuro **is dead now, which means I can finally **get to the rest of you,’ _she had smiled, bright red lipstick-painted lips curling back like a sick, bloody curtain to reveal the sharp glint of her grin. _‘All thanks to Shirogane-chan!’_

**__**_‘Huh…?’_ Shirogane’s eyes had widened a margin, but her expression didn’t change. _‘N-No… Don’t… You already knew… the despair was too much… there was no point…”_

Knowing what Ikusaba had told them all about the Tragedy and about Enoshima herself, Saihara had figured, in his last few moments of wakefulness, that Shirogane was telling the truth.

But it hadn’t mattered.

Enoshima had put on a mask over her mouth and nose, then grabbed the other girl, putting a clicker in her hand and holding them in place. _‘Thaaaat’s right,’_ Enoshima had purred. _‘There’s no point. Put your classmates out of their misery, Shirogane-chan. Just click the button.’_

_‘**SNAP OUT OF IT,’** _Shinguji yelled._ ‘SHIROGANE-SAN--’_

_**‘No, no, no--’ **_Momota had shaken his head, steadily backing further and further in the lab. 

Hoshi had grit his teeth. _**‘This can’t be happening--’**_

_**‘We have to escape,’** Gonta had trembled._

_‘NOW!’ _Akamatsu had yelled. 

And that was the trigger. Everyone had scrambled, some to protect, others to reach for Shirogane, others to secure the only exit and hiding place remaining.

_‘COME ON, HURRY UP--!’ _Harukawa had yelled at Iidabashi, who was still frantically typing away on his laptop.

Iruma had grabbed at his arm. _‘FORGET THE CODE AND THE BOTS, WE HAVE TO GO--’_

_‘WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE AMAMI-KUN AND OUR UPPERCLASSMEN BEHIND TO DIE!’ _Iidabashi had snapped back shrilly, fingers trembling as he typed. _‘Both of you go, just let me finish this one last encryption before she--!’_

_‘I WILL **PROTECT YOU GUYS,’ **_Chabashira had put a hand in front of Angie and Yumeno, gritting her teeth despite the fear in her eyes. _‘GET BEHIND ME--!’_

_‘COME FORWARD TO THE EXIT,’ _Toujo had yelled._ ‘WE CAN MAKE IT OUT--!’_

Enoshima had only giggled and giggled, lips curled upwards underneath her mask, and Shirogane soon caught her own mouth wobbling downwards, wracked with tears of despair as Enoshima pressed both their fingers down to click the button.

_**‘Say goodnight, my darling** juniors,’_ Enoshima had grinned. _‘You’ll all be a good third experiment for me.’_

_**‘Hurry up **and **take this,** don’t worry about me, just--’_ Ouma had desperately shoved the scarf into Saihara’s face, half near sobbing. _‘SHUICHI,** DON’T BREATHE--!’**_

(And then the gas had taken them all.)

“It’s soooo good to see you guys again!” Enoshima spoke up once more, snapping Saihara out of his memories and bringing him back to the trial room. There she stood before them all, uncomfortably close as she caressed Shirogane’s face with an all-knowing grin. “Upupu… I’ll take over from here.”

Shirogane had completely frozen.

“Enoshima Junko, the Ultimate Psychologist, is here for all of you at last.”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, the talent reveal that I kept blue-balling everyone with for months on end. Enoshima Junko is back, baby! 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms.
> 
> LINKS TO FANART!!!!!!!!! BC THIS FIC HAS THEM AND YALL SHOULD CHECK THEM OUT :'D
> 
> [1\. Section 3 fanart by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/189659362317/a-lil-fanart-for-section-3-of-khattikeris)   
[2\. Ouma's execution fanart by Kira @/celesteori](https://celesteori.tumblr.com/post/190110587652/so-see-the-entire-reason-i-have-this-personal-in)   
[3\. Ouma's execution fanart for Ouma Month 2020 by @/kzkanzaki](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBJp3_BgM-2/?igshid=1neoamod3x8ux)   
[4\. Amami's video + Saihara's flashbacks by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/190850687652/lads-ive-gone-fucking-ham-today-heres-some)   
[5\. Ouma snaps (final trial) by Odii](https://twitter.com/odiiette/status/1269817009740681216)   
[6\. Final trial by Rhea @/kirukaes](https://kirukaes.tumblr.com/post/619205518684241920/fanart-of-the-latest-chapter-of-khattikeris)   
[7\. EKR!Tsumugi by Who @/assassination-murder-room](https://assassination-murder-room.tumblr.com/post/619404637315956736/)   



	49. 6-3. Her Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth of reality.
> 
> The dream of the experiment.
> 
> The person who has to make a final choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for inappropriate sexual reactions/innuendo. The biggest one would probably be between "upon a closer look" and "No talking back".
> 
> Also, TW for implied assault/non-con. **It did not actually happen and the person talking about it is lying/exaggerating to get a reaction out of everyone else,** but regardless, skip from "Especially in private" to "You're sick" if that isn't something you are comfortable seeing.
> 
> General warnings: psychological torture (sort of?), and... general shit that you'd want tagged with Junko. Except inc*st, for once.

_Ultimate Psychologist._

Suddenly, the reason why that psychology textbook felt so damn _creepy _made sense to Momota.

“Enoshima… Junko…” The name came out in slow, horrific awe before Momota could even stop himself. She wasn’t a senpai; he couldn’t even think to call her ‘senpai’-- what sort of upperclassman would do this to her juniors?

_More importantly…_ Momota furrowed his brows. _If she’s here now, how was she in that book earlier?_

=

_It might have to do with the videogame we all recognize from our time at Hope’s Peak Academy,_ Kiibo thought to himself. _And the fact that this academy is based on the setting of that videogame._

But even that didn’t make total sense to him. He had all his memories, certainly, but even he was knocked out by the gas in Kamukura’s lab. Kiibo didn’t know where they had all been brought to, or how and why the location resembled a videogame.

_All I know is that this has to be virtual somehow, and that our friends who died are probably still alive and connected. I still don’t understand why Shirogane-san is the only one who has any real control, other than Enoshima-san..._

Enoshima yawned, fanning herself with her hand. “Oh, you’re all so boring and quiet. Come _on. _Even Naegi-kun had the decency to faint.”

She then stretched a bit, moaning obnoxiously, and then transformed into Monophanie.

=

“Wha--” Saihara’s voice came out strangled; the others’ eyes were bulging. _She just… did that?_

Enoshima-- Monophanie? --snickered. “Upupu… That’s better! I always liked seeing shock, y’know. This whole time, it was sooo boring watching you all, dithering around for weeks on end...” She transformed back into her human self with a giggle. “...No matter how much I altered myself.”

She stood perfectly still, smiling with her lips closed. _Whether I was a disembodied voice, a bear, or just a girl, it was amusing to see all the logical fallacies keeping my psyche intact. You guys gave me the best experimental research of all! <3 _

Everyone was… mostly just too shocked to speak, if Saihara had to put it in words. _She’s insane..._

“This isn’t-- this can’t--” Shirogane shook her head. “Enoshima Junko is meant to be a fashionista!”

“Well, I do dye my hair and do my nails,” Enoshima blinked. “And I wear color contacts.” She laughed. “But I don’t have to dress like a librarian prude to be a scientist, y’know!” she sighed. “Oh, how fiction warps people…”

“What do you--” Yumeno tried to speak; Enoshima shushed her. 

“My turn to talk now! You’ve had too many chapters to yourself,” she scolded. “Hmm… I guess I’ll give you all a quick rundown of what happened!”

“Then return all of our memories,” Harukawa demanded. “We already have bits and pieces to extrapolate from. There won’t be any need for you to spew lies and bullshit the way you already are.”

“And leave out a chance at seeing your psychological reactions to what I say?” Enoshima’s voice was deeper all of a sudden; her eyes gleamed. “Naturally, that’ll be a no from me.” She winked. “Anyway! Flashback tiiime!”

= 

Shirogane was back in the movie theater again, only this time, she wasn’t alone.

“Huh?” The others were sitting in the seats of the movie theater, unable to tear their eyes away from the screen. 

“What is this? Where are we?” Saihara asked, shifting uncomfortably in the plush seats. 

“Wait a sec, where’d the trial room--” Kiibo stammered.

“Nyeh, what’s going on?!” Yumeno kicked at the seat in front of her.

Ouma looked like he was close to gagging. “So much mint and perfume...” 

“Oi, Enoshima--” Momota growled.

_ Okayyy, here we go! Stay quiet, you rowdy children. Sit back, take off all hats and large accessories, and turn off your cellular devices. Please do not make loud noises or use flash photography in the theater. Do not spill snacks or drinks. Be courteous of the people sitting around you.  _

“Fuck off with that,” Harukawa snarled. “Explain yourself, Enoshima Junko!”

_You have me as your precious narrator,_Enoshima snickered, ignoring her. _Welcome, everyone, to our film of the past!_

Shirogane’s breath hitched. _No…_

A boy quietly opening a door and sneaking out. The camera shifts and shakes, then follows after him.

_ Amami Rantaro-kun snuck out of the lab in which all of you were hiding to find out what was happening outside, and possibly help his upperclassmen. He did this against his classmates’ wishes. Shirogane Tsumugi-chan noticed him and snuck after him, knowing it could be dangerous. How frightening! _

Flash forward.

_Don’t--!_

A girl with twin strawberry blonde ponytails in a labcoat, smiling good-naturedly at the camera. She lifts a hand to caress the camera, then quietly asks:_ ‘And what are **you** doing here, darling? We haven’t had an appointment in a long time...’_

_ I, being an expert on human brains, figure out immediately that there are unaccounted students still in school! Once these two showed up on my cameras around Hope’s Peak Academy’s interior, it was only a matter of time. Being a genius, I waited for them to unknowingly explain themselves on camera before confronting them one by one as you see here. _

_Stop it! _

Flash forward.

A black screen, with only heavy, shaky breathing and three thin slats through which light parses in. 

_ Amami-kun participated in my first experimental killing game like a good boy. Against his will, obviously, but he sucked it up after a few quick and gentle threats. It took me longer to catch up to Shirogane-chan, but eventually I found her hiding in some sort of locker. _

Flash forward.

The screen was still dark, but now there were whispers around everyone in the theater, almost as if in surround sound:_ ‘It’s your fault. Look. He’s dead. You see the videos I showed you, right? Every angle, every unmistakable detail of death… You see this blood, don’t you? You see his face. It’s the truth. It’s your fault. If you hadn’t followed him out of your perfect hiding spot, your best friend wouldn’t have died.’_

Shirogane clawed at the armrests, tears streaming down her face._ Stop it! Don’t make me look at this again!_

_ I showed Shirogane-chan here the total truth, and she eventually embraced despair, knowing it was all her fault her classmates would get caught and die. Thanks to her and some unfortunate timing from my annoyingly persistent programmer classmate, I found you all in Kamu-kun’s lab! _

Flash forward.

Fingers clasping a button, then two perfectly manicured hands resting on top of them, pushing down to release gas into a room full of terrified teenagers. 

_NO-- _

_By the time I found Shirogane-chan, I already figured I’d lose my own game and die, so I prepared two AI copies of myself! One inside a Monokuma plushie, and the other in a USB. Izu-chan extracted the one inside the plushie and implanted it as a virus in the Neo World Program, and I gave the other one to the former Ultimate Pilot to input after he successfully transported all of you to this place. Once you were all hooked up and adjusted, the game would start up. He was the most helpful remnant of Despair, I swear._

A soft noise of confusion came from Saihara. “Huh...?” 

_Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it-- _

_ This was real tough, since I was still hiding from my own classmates… The game had just started; we were in the middle of it and then these two kids came along and nearly bulldozed through the whole thing. But anyway: here’s where you all got knocked out! Upupu… Shirogane-chan sure is obedient. After that, I had Pilot-kun transport you all to an island and hook you up to some stolen equipment so this experiment of mine could happen. It was impromptu, but the setup was tooootally a success! _

“GET OUT! ALL OF YOU, GET THE HELL OUT!” Shirogane finally screamed, and then--

=

\--and then they were back in the trial room.

Saihara gaped, feet wobbly as he recentered himself in his trial stand. Shirogane was sweating, her breathing heavy. _What was that…_

“Time for a pop quiz, students,” Enoshima suddenly wore a schoolteacher outfit, looking prim and proper with spectacles. “Show me what you learned! You can’t expect a field trip without some sort of reflection paper afterwards,” she tapped a board impatiently. “Now… Where is the third official killing game of Ultimate Psychologist Enoshima Junko’s experiments currently taking place?”

“In a computer?” Yumeno answered, more like a question than a statement.

“Bzzt,” Enoshima replied.

“Huh?” Harukawa narrowed her eyes. “It’s virtual for sure.”

“Even I know that much,” Kiibo agreed. Momota nodded vigorously.

“Tsk… she’s just as much a liar as I am,” Ouma replied breezily. 

_“When_ was the startup?” Saihara asked carefully, breaking the chain of quips and bringing all eyes on him. 

Enoshima bristled-- at first, Saihara wondered if she was irritated, but upon a closer look--

_Wait... is she getting off on this?_ Saihara grimaced, disgusted. _Gross, gross, gross--!_

Enoshima shivered. “No talking back at the teacher, Saihara-kun,” she giggled breathily. “But if you really want to know, it took two months between the time the fifteen of you were finally connected and the time all sixteen of your minds were fully subdued enough to start the game. One of you resisted quite a bit, so it still took a month even after Amami-kun was connected...”

_All sixteen of our minds… subdued? _He put a hand over his mouth, already thinking of possible solutions. 

_She mentioned something called the ‘Neo World Program’. It sounds like a computer simulation. So she knew there would be a digital killing game right after the first one... if so, how come that killing game wasn’t also delayed by two months the way this simulation is? If they’re both virtual, and both of them were infected by viruses with an AI of her, how come only our minds took collectively longer to be..._

Saihara’s hand froze, then slowly moved in front of his gaping mouth. His eyes were wide in horror.

_Only one person’s mind… resisted… being connected to the virus… _

_The movie theater… _

_The memories we saw…_

_This academy, the changing rooms, and..._

_Shirogane-san’s…?_

Enoshima grinned, notebook ready in her hands. “Well? Where are we, Saihara-kun? Answer wisely!”

_No way._ Saihara slowly locked on his gaze to Shirogane. _There’s no way we’re actually..._

“What,” Shirogane’s voice wobbled. “Why are you looking at me?”

“I get it now, Shirogane-san,” Saihara said, throat dry. “We’re _in your mind.”_

“Ding ding ding!” Enoshima cheered. “You got it! Congratulations, Saihara-kun! This calls for confetti!”

Confetti showered down on him and him alone. Saihara sputtered, swiping the bits and pieces off. 

“Huh…?” Shirogane whirled around to face Enoshima, eyes wide. “No, that’s--”

The trial room lurched violently, spinning and twisting all the people in it until it was forcefully brought to a halt.

“There’s no way…” Momota grit his teeth, beyond dizzy. He kept a hand over his mouth, presumably to prevent himself from puking in horror. “That’s impossible, we can’t be in her…”

“Upupu... Ahaha!” Enoshima laughed as everyone else caught their breaths. “Ohh, that’s despairing. Having someone else deduce it before I can dramatically reveal it…!” She eagerly wrote down the result, then seemingly teleported in front of Momota, tapping her pen impatiently against his trial stand.

“Wh--” Momota leaned back as Enoshima got up in his space.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you, Momota-kun?” she asked sweetly. “The impossible is possible. You just gotta make it so!”

And then she disappeared with a laugh, reappearing in the place she had originally occupied.

“In Shirogane’s mind,” Ouma repeated flatly. “Her head? Her noggin? Her dinky little anime-manga-videogame-obsessed otaku shit brain?”

A pause. Then, Enoshima smiled, sadistic.

“Makoto proved real life murder doesn’t work to spread despair,” Enoshima licked her lips salaciously. “And senpai proved implanting a virus in a whole computer system doesn’t work to spread despair either.” She giggled. “So I decided… _why not spread despair by connecting people’s minds directly to the mind of someone who already feels it?”_

Pin drop silence.

“Ahh…” Shirogane took a step back, mortified. “This is…”

(The trial room blurred.)

“So…” Harukawa snapped over to look at Shirogane. “All of us are…”

“Ehe! Your brains are all connected directly to the brain of Shirogane Tsumugi-chan!” Enoshima grinned. “This virtual world is designed by whateeeever she remembers or knows! So if she doesn’t know complex physics or science… tough luck. She’ll just fill in the blanks with her own fiction logic!” 

“Ahhhhh…” Shirogane put her hands on her head, voice shakier, the trial room growing shakier with it.

“So that’s why the school would change based on her emotions,” Yumeno shook.

“And why so many things didn’t work the way they scientifically should’ve…” Kiibo swallowed.

“It’s all in her imagination,” Enoshima tittered. “All a dream… or so I’d leave it at that, if I didn’t want to be shanked for that kind of reveal. There _is_ computer programming involved, and all of your memories and actions within this little thinkspace are independent to yourselves.”

“Which is why we’re still autonomous as individuals even though she has general control,” Ouma reasoned, gaze narrow and a finger poised over his mouth. “Ha…”

“Then how come she didn’t have control back in that theater?” Momota furrowed his brows, angry. “Why couldn’t she stop showing us that stuff til the very end?”

“She’s probably just broken is all,” Enoshima scoffed. “A portrait of despair. Nothing to do with me.”

Saihara’s breath hitched.From the look Ouma suddenly had on his face, Saihara could tell the other boy had reached a similar conclusion. _Portrait… that’s it!_

“It’s a lie that all of this is _only_ Shirogane-san’s control, isn’t it?” Saihara narrowed his gaze. “Because if you really kidnapped us_ in the middle of the game_ involving your classmates, and we’ve all been in a virtual limbo for the past few months, then there’s no way Shirogane-san would’ve known how the previous games ended. All of those references and knowledge had to come from directly from your mind, Enoshima-san. Electronically or otherwise.”

Silence. 

“And another thing,” Saihara’s brows furrowed further, “Shirogane-san may be under the influence of despair, but you’re also connected to her brain as an AI virus, Enoshima-san. You even said you had someone else connect yourself to make sure your experiments continue and Shirogane-san doesn’t break out of the game.”

“I’m alive, you know,” Enoshima fluttered her lashes.

“No, you’re not,” Saihara continued, heated. “Given the timeline and story of the past that you yourself told us, you can’t be truly alive.” 

“As long as despair is alive, I’m alive,” Enoshima tilted her head with a lazy smile. “I’m Enoshima Junko, you know. Ultimate Despair can never die.”

“Ouma-kun and I would know…” Saihara glanced at Ouma, then back at Enoshima. “Because we talked to portraits of all the people who died in the first killing game you were part of, back when we hid in Amami-kun’s lab. A portrait of you was still there, which means you _did_ die back then, even if it was_ after_ all the other people in the portraits.”

“...”

“This might all be a product of a dream, or Shirogane-san’s imagination as influenced by despair,” Saihara continued his explanation. “But Shirogane-san wouldn’t be able to know which of our upperclassmen died and how-- in fact, only Amami-kun could know. Yet if Amami-kun really had control over this place after his death, we wouldn’t have gotten this far-- in other words, _you and your memories must be sharing control of this place. _Whenever Shirogane-san doesn’t act the way you want her to, you take over.”

Enoshima stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“What he said,” Ouma smirked.

“Ultimate Detective Saihara Shuichi-kun…” Enoshima smiled sweetly, slowly licking her lips as she reached over to stroke his cheek, though her obsessive glare painted a frightening picture. _**“What a nuisance. You really are just as irritating as Kyouko, aren’t you?” **_

Saihara lurched back in horror, face twisting into a grimace. “Don’t touch me--!”

Enoshima giggled. “Ahaaah, how despairful! Amami-kun used to say that to me all the time! _Especially_ in private,” her face flushed, crazed. “Upupu… He’d always squirm and try to push me away, all upset… his crying, despairing face was the best!”

The air in the room turned frigid at her words; the innuendo wasn’t lost on any of them. “You’re sick,” Saihara slapped her hand away, brows knit in cold, disgusted anger on behalf of his friend. 

“No more sick with despair than Shirogane-chan,” Enoshima pouted, matter-of-fact. She snickered, pulling out a notebook and scribbling some words into it. “Relax, it was a lie. Your reactions were super interesting, though.”

“You’re trying to distract us from the point, huh,” Ouma looked at his nails. “What an unsubtle bitch.”

“Kyahaaa, kids these days really are more crass!” Enoshima crowed. She suddenly turned bashful, then stern: “C-Careful now, or else Mommy might have to wash your mouths out with soap.”

Ouma’s eye twitched. “Fucking hell, can you pick a personality and stick with it?” he grumbled.

Yumeno swiped an arm, failing to reach over to thwack him. “You’re one to talk.”

“No apparent reaction to implications of a Freudian complex,” Enoshima murmured with a click of her tongue, expressionless as she jotted something down in her notebook. “The more I interact with them, the more I realize kouhai are annoying pains in the ass…” She paused, pushing the end of her pen against her lip. “Oh, no wonder Komaeda-senpai always avoided me in the halls. But why even after the Tragedy? We weren’t students anymore...”

_ No, that’s probably because you murdered his best friend in front of him.  _

“Oh, I forgot about that!” Enoshima laughed at her own back-and-forth, scribbling more into her notebook. “Riiiight, right, Izu-chan did mention something like that being why senpai finally embraced despair. Silly me.”

“In other words…” Kiibo coughed pointedly, then spoke up. “The phenomena we’ve been experiencing is a result of Shirogane-san’s despair and you yourself, whose mentality has more or less merged with Shirogane-san’s.” 

“My memories seeped in somehow, but the despair is all Shirogane-chan’s own!” Enoshima cackled, putting away her notebook. “It’s only amplified by my AI presence.” 

“So basically… Enoshima’s been yanking Shirogane along like a puppet on a string,” Momota clenched his teeth. 

“Yup! That’s the truth of this world,” Enoshima only beamed at the accusation. “Upupu!” she pouted cutely.

“What now…?” Yumeno bit her lip. The trial room twisted and turned around her; Saihara turned to check and sure enough, Shirogane was looking frightfully unstable. 

“I say we maul this bitch,” Harukawa jabbed her thumb at Enoshima, face darkening as she cracked her knuckles.

“Funny,” Ouma commented airily, though his face looked equally dark and terrifying. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever been on the same page, Harukawa.”

“Aww, Maki-chan, Kichi-kun! You can’t!” Enoshima wagged a finger at them, then pouted again. “You can’t maul a computer program!”

“I wouldn’t be against punching a chip in,” Kiibo agreed, his eyes glowing. “Or shooting lasers at it.”

“They’d just bounce off against me,” Enoshima smiled. “I control this place, remember?”

“This is fucking stupid,” Shirogane choked out. “All of this… for what…?”

“Despairing, isn’t it?” Enoshima pursed her lips, feigning sympathy. “The TV show wasn’t real. Betrayal from something or someone you love feels despairing, doesn’t it?” 

“Everyone here died because of me,” Shirogane whispered. “All those lives lost… even though I knew it was wrong…” 

“Let the guilt consume you again. Embrace it. It’s okay.” Enoshima bared her teeth in a grin, and grew. “It’s all your fault.”

“It’s all... my fault...” Shirogane repeated, keeping her head down. 

“I’m always going to be here,” Enoshima boomed, her entire presence taking up the trial room. “Upupu… You’ll never be able to end my experiment. Give up…”

Shirogane shook.

_ Stay with me, Tsumugi. _

Enoshima loomed over them, gigantic, digital, perpetual. “You’re allowed to believe this is fiction if you want,” she purred. “If that makes it easier to stay angry, or sad, or scared, or guilty… it’s fine.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Yumeno clenched her fists. “Shirogane!”

“Just like an anime,” Enoshima continued, giggling loftily. “Mitarai-senpai ran away too. There’s no shame in accepting despair.”

“WE’RE ALL HERE, AREN’T WE?!” Harukawa yelled desperately at Shirogane. “YOU HAVE TO REJECT DESPAIR!”

_It’s too much stimuli, _Saihara realized. Shirogane’s fragile mind couldn’t handle all the revelations of Enoshima’s experiment, and continued shuffling through her own memories. Along with their clothes, the background around them kept changing-- from the trial room, to Class 79-A’s classroom, to the bloody halls of Hope’s Peak Academy, to Kamukura Izuru’s laboratory, to the trial room again--

_If Enoshima Junko has more control over Shirogane-san’s imagination than Shirogane-san does… then all that means is that she’s just jerking everyone here around on a whim._

“All in a wonderful, despairful loop,” Enoshima commented smartly, writing it down in her notebook. “Here we go again, cycling back. That's why I tell you... embrace despair. Pain feels better when you don't have something like hope to look forward to. Killing feels better when you've replaced your old feelings and regrets with despair."

_That’s bullshit. _Saihara clenched his jaw. _She’s just trying to wrap you around her finger._

Enoshima paused, then tilted her head, pigtails bouncing. "But if you really don't like thinking that way... I can compromise on this variable. It's okay if you want to stay deluded, Tsu-chan. Losing people who used to be friends doesn't mean anything if they're all fiction."

_Fuck off with that--!_

"Stay afraid, Tsumugi," Enoshima purred. She was bigger than life, still threatening. "You don’t have outside help. You can’t disengage me. Cling to me... cling to despair. _You don't have the right to want change after everything you've done."_

_That's not true_. _It's not-- you can't let her experiment hold you back!_

It was odd, suddenly rooting for someone like Shirogane. He still despised what she'd done, but... he couldn't help it. 

Saihara Shuichi couldn't help wanting to help others and find the truth. 

Even after Akamatsu. Even with Ouma. 

(Even with Shirogane, too.)

“Shut up, Enoshima,” Saihara snarled at last. “Enough of your game. Enough of your fucking experiment!” 

“Saihara-kun…?” Shirogane faltered.

"EVEN IF YOU PRETEND THIS IS FICTION, EVEN IF YOU ACT LIKE WE’RE ALL FICTIONAL-- THE SADNESS WE FEEL WHEN WE LOSE THE PEOPLE WE LOVE IS _REAL!” _Saihara yelled at Shirogane, clenching his right fist over his heart. He sucked in a shaky breath, tears breaching the edges of his eyes as he pointed with his other hand at Shirogane. “AND EVEN IF THIS WHOLE THING IS JUST A DREAM FROM DESPAIR, I KNOW THE PAIN IN _YOUR_ HEART IS REAL TOO, _SHIROGANE-SAN!” _

He wasn’t sure, in that moment, if the world really did go blank and freeze for a moment, just him and Shirogane in a vacuum, away from everything else. The mastermind and the detective, the liar and the honest, and yet, both of them blue. Was it her? Was it him? Or were they still in the trial room, surrounded by everyone else?

_Does it even matter? _Saihara wondered all of a sudden. 

_Of the two of us, the only person who can choose to move forward from despair and destroy Enoshima’s illusion is…_

The moment passed, and the tension dropped.

“Look at us,” Saihara demanded of Shirogane a final time, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “And let us look at you. It’s okay to feel guilty, but you can’t let yourself spiral.” 

“And then what?” Enoshima cooed, eyes wide in an excited, almost child-like curiosity. “Believe in hope and trust? Believe in your own innate humanity and kindness? What logic are you rats in a cage going to use to take away the despair I love this time?”

Saihara ignored her.

_Her experiment… doesn’t matter anymore._

“Face the people you’ve wronged, face your mistakes, and_ choose your own future!”_

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the climax. Look forward to it!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms.


	50. 6-4. Everyone's Killing Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara may be the protagonist of this story, but he isn’t the main character.
> 
> Bad dreams can only be broken by those who actively choose their future.
> 
> What does “Everyone’s Killing Reality” actually _mean,_ anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had 'Hopes and Dreams' from the Undertale OST on loop while writing this. I think it goes well with the general vibe of this chapter ^^ Or at least the title does, lmao. Give it a listen through this chapter for a burst of energy if you'd like! 
> 
> This is the climax! I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> EDIT 15 Jul. 2020 Deep down I did hope that this fic would get big in its planning and early chapter posting stages, but I dismissed it thinking there's no way it could've. Now that I'm here I'm just so happy that this many people read and enjoyed it. It means the world to me. Thank you all so much for your support and 1000+ kudos on EKR ❤

“Face the people you’ve wronged, face your mistakes, and_ choose your own future!”_

=

Saihara’s words pierced through Shirogane’s heart.

_My own future. _

_One where fear and despair doesn’t hold me back from what I can be._

_One where I can make up for the things I did and move forward…_

“What are_ you_ going to do, Shirogane?” Yumeno asked, snapping Shirogane out of her reverie. Everyone in the trial room was looking at her, not with malice or despair, but in expectation.

She looked back at them. _Even after everything they know I’ve done, they’re still at least willing to help me fight back against her._

Shirogane felt… hesitant to accept it, all of a sudden. After all her high and mighty masterminding, regardless of half of it being manipulation from Enoshima Junko and the other half being pure despair and fear on Shirogane’s end-- could she really accept help like this? An escape like this?

And then she met eyes one more time with the others, all standing there in their trial stands, and collectively, their expressions all seemed to say: _what the hell are you waiting for?_

“If I can change and move forward from my own mistakes and regrets thanks to someone else’s hope,” Ouma muttered aloud, tapping a finger against one of his folded arms, “so can you, Shirogane.”

In the back of her mind, Shirogane knew it was hardly a murmur, but for some reason, she could hear it loud and clear.

_My classmates, my friends-- they all suffered because of what I did. It was wrong. It was sad. And they definitely don’t forgive me for it._

_What I need to do now is to make the right choice and get them out alive. My atonement for my sins and everything else in the future… comes after._

Shirogane took in a breath, then answered: “I’m going to get out of this reality of despair.”

The others looked at each other-- Ouma raised a brow as if he were impressed with her decision, the nitwit-- and nodded. “Then we’ll help,” Harukawa said.

“How cute,” Enoshima cooed. The scent of mint and perfume grew stronger, and her smile was sickeningly sweet. “But you won’t be able to do it that easily, honey. There’s no point in you even trying.”

Those words would’ve thrown her for a loop in the past, but now that Enoshima and her muddling, meddling despair was plainly in front of her rather than manipulating her from the shadows, Shirogane knew what they really were.

_Empty threats and manipulation won’t work on me anymore._

The doubt was still there, lurking, but Shirogane stepped forward regardless. Neither Shirogane’s voice nor her eyes wavered as she turned to look at Enoshima. “You might’ve been a human being before you died… but you’re not human. You don’t have remorse. You don’t have anything to live for other than inflicting suffering on others for your own entertainment. You don’t have hope for the future.” 

Enoshima’s mouth twitched, a jittery spasm, and then it dawned on Shirogane. 

“You don’t even have people you can trust and care about, deep down,” Shirogane realized. “Not the way I do.” 

It wasn’t the wrong thing to say, not quite-- but in the split second that followed, it occurred to Shirogane that she had set off a terrible trigger.

“SO WHAT IF YOU HAVE THAT?!” Enoshima snarled, face demonic with rage, her AI avatar contorting and distorting til it was spanning from the floor to the ceiling in a literal maelstrom of fire. “IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT YASUKE AND MUKURO BETRAYED ME! IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT MAKOTO KILLED ME IN THE END!_ IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT IZURU THREW ME AWAY TO BECOME HUMAN!” _

She cackled, breathless and unhinged in a way that only Enoshima Junko could be. “It doesn’t matter that they got away! It doesn’t matter that I don’t have something as stupid as friends to trust! Because I have _you._ I’ll always control you, Tsumugi.” She giggled, now appearing dainty and queenly and perfect. “You can’t erase me just because _you changed your mind._ I. Will live. _Forever.”_

Shirogane clenched her jaw. “No matter how much you talk about loving despair and living forever like a god… Even if all you have to say is lies that convince people there’s no point, in the end, you’re just someone who hates losing as much as anyone else.”

Enoshima stared at her, face blank. Then, the ends of her lips curled up. “Upupu… You think you can get to me with a cute little speech like that? With those kinds of amateurish psychological deductions, Shirogane-chan, you won’t get anywhere. That’s not how this works…” She tapped her pen on her notepad in scholarly fashion, sticking out her tongue. “You might think this is everyone’s Killing School Semester, but you can’t escape from fiction all by yourself,” Enoshima giggled. “Despair is all you and I have.”

“This isn’t my game show anymore,” Shirogane looked Enoshima Junko in the eye. “And it isn’t your experiment anymore either. This dream is _over._ I won’t let you manipulate myself or anyone else here further.”

“Why do you keep forgetting? You’re _alone,_ Tsumugi,” Enoshima tsked, pouting her lips. “You alienated yourself the minute you framed an innocent girl and executed her. You can’t do anything to fix that and go all happy for hope now.”

“And I know I can never really make up for what I did to Akamatsu-san!” Shirogane spoke louder over her. “Or Amami-kun, or Hoshi-kun, or Toujo-san, or Angie-san, or Chabashira-san, or Shinguji-kun, or even Gonta-kun and Iruma-san! I can’t even begin to make it up to everyone who is still alive in this room!” she yelled. “I know there’s a limit to how happily my future can go after everything I’ve done. But even then…” Shirogane’s lips trembled, but she was resolute. “Even then, I choose to have hope that things will get better than they are now. Even then, they’re still choosing to defeat you and be by my side.”

“Is that so,” Enoshima boredly wrote into her notebook.

“And it was never about just me,” Shirogane sucked in a breath. “You have more power over my mind, but if it’s everyone who’s connected here…” She glanced at Saihara, whose eyes widened briefly before covering his face with that same pensive detective pose.

This time, however, his hand hid a smile behind it.

_ <strike>What a relief that my favorite detective understood.</strike> _

_What a relief… that my friend is willing to help me. _

Saihara put his hand over his heart, closing his eyes. “All sixteen of us… are in this together. And if _all_ of our minds are connected here, then all we have to do to defeat you, Enoshima Junko, is believe.”

Strangely enough, everyone else seemed to catch on to what he meant. Shirogane could feel it-- minds, all directly connected to hers, all with their shifting beliefs and understandings, suddenly and intentionally pushing her ahead. 

The gentle thrum of heartbeats reverberated all around the trial room. It was then that Enoshima faltered, realizing that something was amiss. “What’s…?”

“Shirogane isn’t alone,” Harukawa replied coolly. She took in a deep breath as she closed her eyes as well. “If we’re all connected through her imagination, then…”

“Yeah,” Momota reaffirmed, gazing at the ceiling above them, then closing his own eyes with a grin. “Shuichi’s right. This place’s all a mix of Shirogane’s mind and digital rearrangement, ain’t it?”

“Which means the feelings of ourselves and our loved ones who died…” Kiibo clenched his fist, closing his eyes. “...can also push us forward.”

“They’re with us, and they’re making us stronger,” Yumeno sighed, pulling the brim of her hat lower. “And we’ll all choose to help her if it means a future away from this nightmare.”

_“Pfft--!”_ Enoshima clutched her sides, scribbling away in her notebook. “Oh, how _anime._ How wonderfully shounen! Even Mitarai would get a kick out of this!”

“You failed, Enoshima,” Ouma taunted, though his eyes were void of mischief as he closed them. “Bet you never counted on everyone’s imaginations and hopes combined taking you out.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Enoshima jutted out her lip. “If it were that easy to connect and overpower me, you should’ve done it waaaaaaaaaay sooner.”

“If you really wanted full control and despair for eternity,” Saihara retorted, eyes still closed and mouth lopsided in a know-it-all grin, “you wouldn’t have even allowed this to be an option, Enoshima.”

Enoshima clenched her teeth. “You _uppity_ little--!”

Shirogane was the only one with her eyes still open; she could see it-- her own imagination, backed with everyone else, maintaining their strength against Enoshima, who fruitlessly squirmed against it, trying and failing to regain the power she once had.

“Seven minds is nothing if it isn’t being used for research!” Enoshima panted, sweat beading down her forehead.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking!” Ouma jeered. 

“Even as a psychologist, you still don’t realize you’re in denial!” Yumeno also began to mock her.

Momota joined in. “Somehow, ya seemed a lot more effective as a bear ‘n as a book than as a person!”

“We’ll defeat you for sure,” Harukawa promised, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Everyone here is on Shirogane's side!”

“We’ll reject your world of despair,” Saihara declared. 

“Combining our imaginations and hopes to make our ideal futures reality,” Kiibo’s entire frame glowed turquoise, “we’ll break out of this dream for good!”

“Enoshima Junko,” Shirogane said her name plainly, but could feel power surging in her chest, and as she closed her eyes to soak it all in, her hair slowly turned white. 

(The power of her own imagination allowed for cliche symbolism like that, right?)

“Enoshima Junko,” Shirogane repeated, “We fight back _because_ we all have hope for the future.” The others then spoke with her, completing the thought all etched vividly within their hearts:

_ **“And the future we’re imagining doesn’t have you in it.”** _

Brows furrowed, grips tightening, through their connected psyches, everyone was surrounded by bright, pure light, violent wind, and the hum of sixteenhearts beating in tandem slowly ate away at the edges of the academy backdrop. 

“Why am I--” _\--disappearing, _Enoshima couldn’t say; the light was forcing her to shrink back to human size, and then it began to consume her: the brightness in all the remaining students’ hearts devoured her very being, even as she struggled against it. “You can’t-- You can’t _get rid of me!”_

“We can!” Shirogane yelled strongly, wind flapping in her hair, and for some reason, now, after all this time, she was choked up by the sheer emotion of everything around her. “You can do anything if you dream it. Imagination and communication are what keep hope alive even through despair like yours! But most importantly--” She closed her eyes, at last joining her classmates.. “Most importantly, I’m not alone.” 

“The despair…” Enoshima crumbled, literally and metaphorically. “My research… Without despair, it can’t continue…” Enoshima’s grip tightened around her notebook and labcoat; her own brows furrowed and her voice straining. “I created this reality to see the chaos spread. To see despair. You can’t…” Her face contorted, angrier and more full of despair than ever before. “THIS REALITY NEEDS ME! YOU SIXTEEN BRATS CAN’T--” 

“WE CAN,” Shirogane yelled. _“EVERYONE’S KILLING REALITY! _ALL OF US, TOGETHER--!”

Enoshima loosened her grip and laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. And then she bellowed:

“How does it feel, Makoto?! Third time’s the fucking charm, I bet!” 

Enoshima cackled, then caught her breath. With a smile, she pulled out her pen and flipped open her notebook. “Experiment Three Log. Final recording,” she spoke aloud as she wrote, pronouncing each syllable. “Experiment failed. And now, I die.” Enoshima flipped the book shut and grinned, waving goodbye to them as she dissolved, ever-amused. 

=

Naegi Makoto haunts Enoshima Junko just as she haunts him.

He’s standing behind her, she thinks, in this ugly tunnel of shining hope. Enoshima can see him, can practically hear him, standing behind her, arms by his side instead of fidgeting awkwardly in front of him. 

“Go on,” Enoshima Junko egged him, a hysterical giggle on the tip of her tongue. “Say it.”

“No…” Naegi shifts, halfway between comfort and discomfort. “I’m not gonna say _‘I told you so’, _Otonashi-san. But…”

“But nothing,” she scoffs, face souring with uncharacteristic bitterness. “Both the upper and the underclassmen have ended up being pathetically hopeful worms like you. It’s disgusting.”

He isn’t even offended anymore. He just looks sad.

“What’s this?” Enoshima teases. “Sad you couldn’t save me? Or reform me?”

Naegi shakes his head. Sighs, takes a deep breath. Doesn’t speak. 

He looks a little like how Shirogane Tsumugi did in the trial room, oddly enough.

“I’m sad that whatever friendship we had back when we were ordinary classmates… was broken apart. You got along with a lot of people, you know. And even helped them as a psychologist, before…” he gestures. “This.”

She has the distressing, childish urge to grab him by the collar and spit on his face, just to see how he’d react. “Nostalgia seems to have made a fool out of you,” she instead comments. 

It’s funny, Enoshima thinks in retrospect, how a little bit of him seems to be in every person she’s encountered.

(No, that’s wrong.)

It’s not a little bit of him in everyone, but rather a little bit of hope.

“You don’t exist anymore,” Naegi says simply. “You’re imagining me. You’re an AI of a girl who’s already died twice.”

(How funny, coming from the boy who told her mere months ago, in no uncertain words, that she wasn’t a myth.)

Enoshima purses her lips. “So you’re insinuating that_ I’m_ the one stuck in the past?”

“I mean…” Naegi blinks at her, then shrugs with a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah. You are.”

Perhaps most irritating was the fact that he wasn’t even wrong. 

_‘You talk an awful lot about this Naegi guy, Ryouko,’ _Yasuke had told her once. He had snorted. _‘Makes a guy feel jealous.’_

And then Yasuke had died, betraying her possessive love of sixteen years for a boy-turned-human experiment he’d barely known.

_‘You’re really fixated on Naegi,’ _Mukuro had observed, in a rare moment when Enoshima allowed her to speak her mind. Mukuro had looked down, brows furrowed and cheeks tinged with pink. _‘...It worries me.’ _

Of course it had worried Mukuro. She had the most obvious crush on him. 

But even with that, Mukuro had died, betraying her to protect sixteen people she rarely even talked to, and fourteen more who she’d never prioritized before that point.

Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru didn’t need her or her empty promises anymore. Naegi Makoto had moved forward to repair what was lost or destroyed of the world.

Anyone who could’ve been her friend, could’ve been someone she could trust and go forward to the future with, was either dead or someone who wanted nothing to do with her.

It really was only her left behind.

“You are, Enoshima,” Naegi said simply. “You’re the only one rooted in the past, nostalgic for a world that doesn’t exist anymore, and won’t again in the near future.”

...Yasuke and Mukuro were right. She _is_ a little too obsessed with him.

“Whatever,” she says quietly. “Get lost, Naegi.”

_Psychoanalysis is my job, _Enoshima thinks, a little frantic as everything catches up to her at once._ You can't take that away and expect it to get rid of me. This world still has room for me. I told you to go and rot. This reality can still be ruled by me._

“Everyone is killing that reality,” Naegi echoes the underclassmen in response to her thoughts, and Junko decides then and there that she doesn’t care anymore. “It’s your loss.”

“Whatever!” she laughs, hollow. Her smile wobbles, then cracks and breaks completely. “Whatever.”

_You aren’t needed, _she hears reverberating around her, and for some reason the words are all in Naegi’s voice. _You are alone and powerless. You are an empty person who rejected hope and trust and friendship and the future for personal gain. You are boring and hollow and forgettable, and your cruelty in the name of talent and despair no longer has a place in this universe._

“Goodbye forever, Otonashi-san,” Naegi says, with that same damning smile on his face. 

(Naegi Makoto haunts Enoshima Junko just as she haunts him.)

“Whatever,” Otonashi Ryouko repeats, emotionless. “I don’t regret a thing.”

=

Enoshima Junko bore a neutral frown, tired and weary and utterly weighed down by disappointment, and then she drowned, dissolving to nothing in the wind and light.

The brightness died down, and everyone gaped at each other, incredulous. 

“It worked,” Saihara said flatly. His knees gave out, and he scrambled for balance on his trial stand. “It _worked?”_

It had worked, indeed. The game was over.

“She’s gone,” Kiibo whispered, awed.

Yumeno and Ouma high fived; Harukawa and Momota’s shoulders visibly sagged in relief.

“We’re free,” Shirogane croaked, eyes watery as she smiled.

And then the world turned black. 

=

USB EJECTED.

FILE:‘ENOSHIMA_JUNKO_AI_BACKUP’ PERMANENTLY ERASED.

RELOADING LANDSCAPE…

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's gone for good :')
> 
> I have explanations for all the cheese here but mostly it just boils down to me being a sappy puddle who likes friendship tropes and thinks that V3 should have it if the first two main games got to have it too with no logical backlash. LOL
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms. I also recently made an instagram, so if you'd like to tag me in fanart there, absolutely go for it!
> 
> LINKS TO FANART!!!!!!!!! BC THIS FIC HAS THEM AND YALL SHOULD CHECK THEM OUT :'D
> 
> [1\. Section 3 fanart by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/189659362317/a-lil-fanart-for-section-3-of-khattikeris)   
[2\. Ouma's execution fanart by Kira @/celesteori](https://celesteori.tumblr.com/post/190110587652/so-see-the-entire-reason-i-have-this-personal-in)   
[3\. Ouma's execution fanart for Ouma Month 2020 by @/kzkanzaki](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBJp3_BgM-2/?igshid=1neoamod3x8ux)   
[4\. Amami's video + Saihara's flashbacks by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/190850687652/lads-ive-gone-fucking-ham-today-heres-some)   
[5\. Ouma snaps (final trial) by Odii](https://twitter.com/odiiette/status/1269817009740681216)   
[6\. Final trial by Rhea @/kirukaes](https://kirukaes.tumblr.com/post/619205518684241920/fanart-of-the-latest-chapter-of-khattikeris)   
[7\. EKR!Tsumugi by Who @/assassination-murder-room](https://assassination-murder-room.tumblr.com/post/619404637315956736/)   
[8\. Junko's shoutout to Makoto by Who @/assassination-murder-room](https://assassination-murder-room.tumblr.com/post/623141650296897536/)


	51. 6-5. The Ultimate Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultimate Despair is gone, but Shirogane’s regret is not. 
> 
> To live and change, or to sacrifice oneself...
> 
> ...which is the better apology?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of these, huh? lol
> 
> This chapter is mostly just wrapping up/reiterating general things about Shirogane's masterminding and how she is still responsible for her actions, but will do her best to move forward. However, it is still important to me and to the story that everyone knows _she is not being redeemed._ Growth is different from redemption and forgiveness, and does not require either of the latter.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy these two chapters before the end :')

When the world opened up again, they were outside the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, wearing their Hope’s Peak Academy uniforms. Shirogane’s hair floated back down to normal, no longer white.

_Of course, _Shirogane thought. _It’s not like talking back to my tormentor once will magically make all the trauma go away…_

“Ah!” Kiibo stretched out his prosthetic arms in front of him, wiggling his fingers.

“You’re a cyborg,” Yumeno quipped. 

“I’m human,” Kiibo sneered. He pulled at his own cheek. “See? Skin. No more metal, except my arms and legs.”

“How come you were a robot this whole time, anyway?” Saihara asked. “Was there a reason why Kiibo-kun specifically…?” He glanced at Shirogane for an answer; she shuffled.

“That… was probably Enoshima’s doing,” Shirogane guessed. “Partially. I’m not sure.”

Ouma twirled a strand of his hair, fidgeting. “Ikusaba-san did say something about her being obsessed with robots, remember?”

Saihara hummed. “Right, right…”

It was surreal, actually, seeing herself standing by with everyone else who had survived to this point. Shirogane couldn’t wrap her mind around it-- pun unintended.

_I… don’t deserve to be here. If anything, I should be executed._

It was only fair. The way she’d thought of it in her game show, she _should’ve _been executed at the end. But now, it was beginning to get more and more clear that the way she imagined it wasn’t exactly how it was going to go. 

This was all because she made the conscious choice to stand up and start trying to break free from despair despite her own fear. Right? It was only with all of their encouragement and help that she was able to break free from Enoshima Junko. Once Shirogane actually put forth an effort to stop wallowing in her own imaginary world, she was able to abandon despair and destroy the bearings of the mental universe she’d created.

...Something like that. That explanation made sense to her.

“I just want to make this clear, Shirogane-san,” Saihara began again, unhesitant and unapologetic. “Even if this was because of Enoshima Junko, I don’t forgive you or myself for what happened to Kaede. Or to anyone else who died.”

Shirogane only nodded. It was to be expected, obviously. Helping her defeat Enoshima was a temporary truce in everyone’s best interests. 

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Saihara breathed, and it was abundantly clear even then just how much he was holding back. Shirogane had half a mind to tell him to let it out, but said nothing.

_It might’ve been easier if he could scream at me and tear me a new one for what I did to one of his best friends. It might’ve been easier for him if he didn’t care about me at all, rather than still seeing me somewhat as a friend._

“Kaede did nothing wrong,” Saihara said again. “Shinguji-kun was manipulated just the same.”

“Hoshi and Toujo, too,” Harukawa added.

“And Tenko and Angie,” Yumeno sniffed. 

“Speakin’ of which,” Momota shifted, looking at Ouma, “It’s not just you I don’t forgive, Shirogane.”

Ouma looked at Momota expectantly. 

“That’s right,” Kiibo murmured. “Just as Momota-kun doesn’t forgive what happened to Gonta-kun, I can’t forgive what happened to Iruma-san, Ouma-kun.”

“I don’t forgive all the jazz with Shuichi either,” Momota scowled. “Even if the guy himself happens ta be cool with it.”

Saihara looked sheepish and awkward all of a sudden, caught in the middle of the confrontation.

“I know,” Ouma said quietly. “I know neither of you do, but I don’t expect or want forgiveness for the things I did.”

Saihara sighed; Momota nodded curtly.

_We’re fairly similar, _Shirogane thought. _As annoying as I found him in the game… we’re more similar than I previously thought._

“Shirogane,” Ouma called out to her, as if noticing what she was thinking purely from the look on her face. “I know you hate yourself for what you’ve done. Believe me, I’m the same.” His gaze softened. “But this isn’t the end.”

“You’ve learned about as well as I have that dying won’t absolve us of our crimes or the pain we’ve caused others,” Shirogane raised a brow. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“If you wanna be negative, sure,” Ouma chirped.

There was an awkward silence after that.

=

_‘Live for them. Live on with them.’_

Iruma’s words from weeks ago echoed in Kiibo’s mind. The rocket function, his own idea to sacrifice himself, Iruma’s vehement refusal to let him go through with it-- everything came back to Kiibo at once. 

_I’m glad I listened to her, _he decided. _If only because me continuing forward helped all of us defeat Enoshima in the end… I’m glad nobody sacrificed themselves for nothing. _

Kiibo glanced at Ouma and Shirogane, then let out a small huff. _And as rough around the edges as both of them are… I’m glad they’re changing too. We’ve all changed. _

_We’ll heal together once we get out. I’m sure of it._

_=_

“I think that about wraps up the discussion,” Harukawa yawned. “I don’t do well with sappy shit, let’s go.”

The boys all blanched, then blushed, suddenly aware of where they were and what they were all saying or thinking. It made Harukawa want to laugh.

Yumeno tsked. “Makimaki, read the room,” she whined. “They were all having a moment!”

“We’re not in a room, we’re outside,” Harukawa stuck out her tongue at Yumeno; Yumeno snorted. “I’m right, don’t deny it. It may be Shirogane’s mind, but we’re outside.”

“If you don’t agree with me I’ll tell Saihara and Ouma about the whole thing you and Momota had right before Kiibo went missing that one time,” Yumeno threatened jokingly. “AND! AND I’ll tell Momota about Punching Bag-san--”

“Yumeno!” Harukawa shrieked, swiping at Yumeno. Yumeno screamed with laughter as she ran to avoid Harukawa’s wrath. Somewhere nearby, Harukawa could’ve sworn she’d heard a few _‘the hell?’_s and at least one _‘see, I toldja girls were weird’. _

“Anytime now, Shirogane,” Harukawa’s teeth were clenched in a grin. “Before I decide to actually kill Yumeno for real.” 

Shirogane nodded. “Mm.”

“What’s wrong?” Yumeno panted, still not used to running. “It’s okay, Shirogane, we’ll be waiting for you once we wake up!”

Shirogane looked appalled all of a sudden. “Huh?”

On a whim, Harukawa chose to stop going easy on Yumeno; she snatched the smaller girl up and squeezed her round the middle, ignoring her half-hearted pleas and hiccupy, giggling peals of laughter. “We’ll be waiting,” Harukawa repeated what Yumeno said. “What’s weird about that?”

“You-- I mean--” Shirogane looked tongue-tied. “Why would you wait for me?”

It dawned on Harukawa then. _She’s still in a self-loathing rut_. It was natural for Shirogane to be, but at this point, Harukawa herself didn’t mind. Part of her was still mad, and sad, and upset. But unlike when they were still in the game, she was fine with waiting and accepting her feelings as they came.

_Actually, _she realized with a start, _I can understand my own feelings a lot better than before._

“Because we’re friends,” Harukawa said simply. “Okay?”

“That doesn’t…” Shirogane looked like she still wanted to argue, but was hesitating.

“I don’t forgive you,” Harukawa interrupted bluntly. “I’m just not that kind of person. But the time we spent together, the emotions we felt-- it was all real, and you’re still my friend even though I can’t stand what you did.”

_How’s that for eloquent, Hana-chan? _

“What Makimaki said,” Yumeno squirmed, then somehow pulled off an escape. She bounded up to Shirogane and took the other girl’s hands in her own, smiling. “We’re_ friends,_ Shirogane. Despite everything, or because of everything… we’ll be waiting for you, okay?”

“Oh,” Shirogane said. She looked a bit lost.

“I’m… not as close to you as these two are,” Momota rubbed the back of his neck. “But yeah, same. More or less.”

“Same with me,” Saihara covered his smile with his hand, clearly amused by the display.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Ouma sighed. “Are we gonna go now or what?” The sweetness of the moment evaporated; everyone groaned, and Ouma blew a raspberry. “Oh, shut up, we were all thinking it!”

“It’s strange to say goodbye all of a sudden,” Kiibo elbowed him. “Even though this place was never home to us, it’s weird to think of what we’re going to face after we leave here.”

“It’s…” Shirogane began, then paused. “It’s scary now that it’s all over,” she admitted. “Part of me wants to die, or be crushed by a rock or something… But I can’t run away this time. I won’t let myself run away, or be swayed the way I was by Enoshima.” Her voice turned more thin towards the end.

She turned to the others and smiled, tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you, everyone,” Shirogane choked on the words, “for bringing me out of despair.” She took in a shaky breath, still smiling. “And for everything I’ve done... I’m sorry.”

_Good, _Harukawa thought with relief, echoing Shirogane’s smile. _She’s already started anew on the right path._

=

Shirogane put her imagination to use: the academy exploded, its buildings all crumbling to the ground, and the cage holding them all in shattered. Glass shards, debris, and other shrapnel flew past without making a single scratch on the students. 

The other six gawked at the sight. 

“Pretty violent, don’tcha think?” Ouma winced. 

Yumeno nodded. “Was it really not possible to just…” she waved her hands about. “Poof! And disintegrate the place?”

Kiibo shrugged. “Looks about the same as it would’ve if I had explosion-ed it with my rockets.”

“Cut it out, guys,” Saihara chided. He looked concernedly over his shoulder to where Shirogane was standing. “She’s… We’ve all been through a lot.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Shirogane looked down at the crumbling structures, clear regret on her face. “I had it coming.”

Momota snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, Shirogane… you’ve done a ton of fucked up shit these past few weeks. And I’ll admit, I still sorta hate your goddamn guts… but there were bigger things at hand than whatever TV show you thought was going on.” 

Harukawa nodded. “I know we said we don’t forgive you, but… the influence of Enoshima Junko and Despair _does_ make a difference.”

Shirogane let out something between a laugh and a scoff. “I still think you’re all being too nice to me,” she smiled bittersweetly. “There are plenty of others who ought to be standing here instead.” She sighed shakily. “Everyone who died...”

“They’re still technically alive, you know,” Kiibo replied, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Even though it was painful for them, and recovering will be difficult… they’re alive. It will be rough, but you can make up for everything after we get out.”

“...Yeah,” Shirogane finally breathed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

_The ultimate atonement is to live on and do better._

Shirogane smiled again as the world faded into white one last time.

“Well, then… see you all on the other side.”

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: human!Iidabashi's limbs are all prosthetics. It's only occurring to me now that I didn't actually describe this in past chapters, but that's part of why he and Iruma ended up being such good friends as children in this AU-- it was their common talking point when they wrote back-and-forth letters.


	52. 6-6. Goodbye, Danganronpa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the game and the escape from the simulation.
> 
> The awakening of the seven survivors and the untold stories of their upperclassmen.
> 
> The end of Danganronpa and the beginning of a new story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE.** It's been a while since there was one of these! But at any rate: **if you have not finished chapter 51 (6-5. The Ultimate Atonement), _go back and read that first._**
> 
> Without further ado, here's the penultimate chapter.

No light, no sound, no form, no voice.

Saihara Shuichi woke up not in a locker, but in a pod.

His eyes fluttered open. The room was dim, but things were still vaguely visible-- the glass lid of the pod was open, hanging up by its hinge, and as Saihara shifted, he could feel his own limbs.

_I’m alive._

Something muffled his breathing-- he groggily reached up to grab at it, arm sluggishly dragging like a lead block as he lifted the offending material from his face. When he pulled it off and held it up above his head to look at, his breath hitched.

A checkered bandana.

Memories and emotions flooded back all at once-- of the virtual killing game, of the Tragedy, of Ouma Kokichi-- and tears pricked Saihara’s eyes.

He brought his arm and the scrunched up bandana with it down, only to be met with a familiar face.

“Good morning, Shuichi,” Ouma cooed, his teasing, bright purple eyes shining overhead, his mouth lilting in a beautiful grin from above. He giggled. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

“Ouma...kun…” Saihara’s voice was startlingly raspy, even to himself. He swallowed his own spit, but it didn’t feel like enough. “You…”

“You always do wake up last,” Ouma continued as if nothing had happened at all. “Even without morning announcements. It’s okay, though! This time we’re not in Gonta’s lab, and I didn’t have you kidnapped for a _third_ time.”

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara rolled his eyes.

Ouma’s mouth twisted. “It’s a little concerning that I’ve done that to you twice, actually--” He paused, suddenly realizing what was in Saihara’s hands. “--Ooh, look at that. So that’s where my bandana was! I thought it was weird that it wasn’t on me when I woke up.” He snickered jokingly. “You think you have the right to steal it now, huh?”

That stupid, playful, adorable smile…

_‘SHUICHI, DON’T BREATHE--!’_

_‘Figure it out yourself, my beloved Saihara-chan.’_

_‘Just because I cried a little when it was my turn to die and couldn’t take my execution head-on and just exit the stage the way I should’ve, you think I deserve any sympathy?!’_

_‘You really do love me.’_

“Yeah,” Saihara rasped. “I do.”

Ouma giggled again. “You gonna get up?”

Saihara mustered as much strength as he possibly could to lean up, then brought a hand around Ouma, yanking him in for a hug instead. Unfortunately, he misjudged his own strength, and sent both of them toppling back down into the pod.

Ouma yelped, startled and squirming, before settling into Saihara’s tight embrace. “You do know I’m half in your pod, right?” he asked, though he made no moves to let go.

“Mm,” Saihara’s watery voice was muffled by Ouma’s shoulder. 

Ouma snickered, patting him gently. “Someone’s awfully clingy today.” 

“I love you,” Saihara sniffled quietly. He let out a sigh, then tightened his embrace, fingers tangling themselves in Ouma’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re alive...”

Saihara couldn’t see Ouma’s expression, but the warmth he felt from Ouma’s face was unmistakable. “I love you too,” Ouma mumbled clumsily into his ear. “Now get up before the others think I’m doing something gross to you, you miserable invalid.”

Saihara shuffled and sat up, slowly letting go of Ouma. Ouma took his bandana from Saihara and quickly tied it around his own neck; meanwhile, Saihara looked around.

The room was rather big. Fifteen coffin-like glass pods were placed in a circle around a sixteenth pod in the center, with gray wires connecting them all. Dark blue lights fluttered in the wires of those who had died during the simulation, with nowhere to go now that Shirogane had presumably woken up and left her pod in the center of the formation. Shirogane’s pod also had a supercomputer connected to it that took up the majority of the room, which in turn had a larger-than-life USB drive. The supercomputer was shut down.

_There’s an open door on that wall of the room, which means this is probably a bigger building… And I can see a few other open pods, so at least some of the other survivors must’ve woken up by now. They probably went to explore. _“Where are the others?” Saihara asked Ouma at last, walking around the room to properly investigate. 

“They left on the escape helicopter,” Ouma said helpfully. Saihara’s eyes bulged to the size of dinner plates before he realized it was a lie.

“They’re exploring the other rooms in this building?” Saihara guessed.

“Nope!” Momota’s infectiously cheerful voice came from behind him, clapping him on the back. “Or at least, not anymore. We’re right here.”

Saihara whirled around. “Kaito!” he exclaimed, grinning.

“Nyeh… So you finally got up, huh?” Yumeno yawned nearby. “Apparently it’s been a few hours. I had no idea…”

Kiibo-- Iidabashi?-- nudged her gently. “You hardly woke up a few minutes before him. Really, I’m more surprised our bodies aren’t completely wrecked from having to lay asleep in pods for several months…”

“Shuichi’s awake now?” Harukawa came up to him too, raising a brow with a smile. “Glad to see it.”

“We’re all here,” Shirogane said quietly-- though her gaze was fixed not at the seven of them, but at the nine other closed pods behind them.

A somber silence followed. 

“We know for sure they’ll all wake up, right?” Momota furrowed his brows.

“They should,” Shirogane replied, hands tightly clenched in front of her. “There’s no indication that they shouldn’t.”

“What happened to the USB that had the AI version of Enoshima?” Saihara asked. Kiibo tapped on his shoulder and held it up once Saihara turned around to look at him.

“I’m keeping it,” Kiibo clarified quickly, and then pocketed it in his Hope’s Peak uniform blazer. “For the time being, anyway. It had been ejected from the supercomputer when I woke up.”

“Speaking of these uniforms,” Ouma wrinkled his nose. “They’re disgusting. Brown isn’t my color at all.”

“Not much we can do about that,” Harukawa muttered.

“It still looks better than whatever straightjacket thingy you had to wear in the simulation,” Yumeno made a face.

“Touché, Yumeno.”

Suddenly, there was a crashing noise; everyone immediately whipped around to face the source.

“Shit, I forgot-- do we even know where we are?” Saihara knit his brows.

“Some underground facility,” Harukawa replied, alert. “Apparently on an island of some sort, judging by some files we found in another room-- though I haven’t been able to confirm if Ultimate Despair still exists, or is still a major threat at this location. Stay calm. If need be, I’ll fight--”

“See?!” A loud voice bellowed. “That proves some of them are awake, I _told you_ you wouldn’t have to literally _break into_ one of those stupid fucking pods to rescue them--”

“OWW, Hajime-kun!”

_Wait a minute. _

Saihara looked at the others. The others looked at him. 

_‘Hajime’... As in Hinata Hajime?_

Slowly, he made his way towards the other end of the room, where the noise was coming from. 

The guilty parties were a youth wearing a long green jacket (and a robotic arm?) situating themselves halfway into Saihara’s empty pod, and another person violently yanking and trying to pull them out.

_Why is it that even in the real world, I’m surrounded by idiocy… _Saihara pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed.“U-Um...?” he spoke up hesitantly.

The two strangers-- the first one, Hinata Hajime, was now pinching the other’s cheek-- snapped their heads over to where Saihara was standing.

“Oh, thank god,” the other man whispered, thin curly wisps of white hair falling in front of his eyes. “They’re here.” He waved at Saihara. “Heeeeeey, Saihara-kun! Gosh, you look terrible right now, but congratulations on making it out! Welcome back to the world of the living!”

Saihara bristled at that (he really couldn’t look _that_ bad, right?) but quickly realized who was talking to him. He furrowed his brows in disbelief. “...Komaeda-senpai?”

Komaeda Nagito nodded, looking like he wanted to say something about being addressed as ‘senpai’ but ultimately not doing so. “Yeah, it’s me. How lucky, though! We didn’t even have to rescue you. As expected of bright youths these days...”

“We’re only two years older, moron,” Hinata nudged Komaeda’s shoulder. 

“Didn’t you hear, Hajime-kun? I’m practically an elderly man now,” Komaeda sighed. “At the ripe, old, withering age of nineteen, I may as well be dea--”

Saihara could only gape for so long before his curiosity got the better of himself; he interrupted their banter. “Senpai, when did you get a robotic arm?” 

“Oh… this?” Komaeda paused his rambling to hold it up in front of him, then let out an awkward laugh. “Ahaha… Long story, kid.”

“It’s okay, everyone,” Saihara called out to the others, all of whom warily came out upon hearing him confirm it. “They’re not here to hurt us.”

=

“So that’s how it was,” Komaeda breathed. “Well.”

Everyone fidgeted. The kids had all just about finished their recollection of everything that had happened, from the start of their time at Hope’s Peak to where they were now. The brunt of the explanation came from Shirogane; the whole ordeal had taken several hours.

“A dream world like that is sort of similar to what I experienced,” Komaeda hummed. “Though it’s not exactly the same.”

“So… what about you?” Yumeno asked tentatively. “She did say there were two other games…”

“Uhh…” Before Komaeda could answer, Hinata came in, wrinkling his nose. “That’s… a story for another time.”

_‘Please don’t hurt him,’ _he had said, voice quiet yet unwavering, powerful red eyes humbled wet with ripe, unshed tears. ‘_Please… don’t hurt Hajime.’_

“Yeah…” Komaeda’s gaze softened at the memory. He sighed. “Yeah. Some other time.”

=

“I can’t believe we missed you guys,” Hinata muttered, pacing around a small area of the room. “We were _right here,_ months ago, and we couldn’t even…”

“It’s okay,” Kiibo fidgeted, legs dangling off the edge of the table he was sitting on as he watched Hinata. The others were ooh-ing and aah-ing at Komaeda’s prosthetic arm, now tired of doing the same for Kiibo’s limbs.

Hinata grimaced. “It’s… really not. You were_ literally_ right under our noses.”

None of the seven of them had been prepared to learn that they’d been on Jabberwock Island this whole time. Doubly so for learning that they were in secret underground duplicate version of the original Future Foundation building, where Hinata and Class 77-B had all taken part in their virtual killing game.

“Fuckin’ _Tengan,” _Hinata swore. “Dude fucks off and dies during the Tragedy and doesn’t even tell anyone shit about the buildings he had made. Not a single record of it within Future Foundation headquarters. Not even a fucking_ blueprint. _Goddamn. If it weren’t for Kirigiri we’d all’ve been screwed.”

“At least he’s not alive and working with Ultimate Despair?” Kiibo tried hopefully. Hinata only sighed and shook his head. “My father would talk about him when I was a child, but I don’t really remember much aside from the words ‘scheming’ and ‘corrupt’…”

Hinata perked up. “Right… You’re Dr. Iidabashi’s kid, aren’t you?”

Kiibo nodded.

Hinata grinned. “Well then, he’ll be happy to see you alive and well.”

Just then, Komaeda walked in. “I heard that you have the USB file that contained Enoshima Junko’s AI, Iidabashi-kun.”

“Kiibo is fine,” Kiibo blinked at him. “Um--”

“Let me destroy it,” Komaeda leaned in close. “Please.”

Kiibo squeaked._ “Um--”_

“Nagito,” Hinata chided, tone warning.

Komaeda twisted his mouth. “You seven got to kill her. Naegi Makoto-kun got to kill her, if we want to be technical. Hajime-kun and some of my classmates got to kill her. No offense, but I think I deserve to kill her too, even if she’s already dead.”

“What kind of logic is that?” Hinata blurted, bewildered. “I mean, by that logic, even I…” He stopped, seeming as if he were having a mental argument. “No… Well, yeah, but--”

“Well…” Kiibo took the USB out of his pocket and held it out in his palm. “Technically speaking… there’s no point in keeping it around. If we try to study it or open it in another computer device, there’s no saying what could happen.”

_“Exactly,”_ Komaeda gushed. “I’m so happy you understand.”

(Kiibo’s memories were back, certainly-- and that was precisely why he was still a bit worried for Komaeda’s mental state.)

Hinata waved a hand, suddenly seeming more blunt than before. “Fine. Do whatever. As long as she doesn’t possess you or come back to life a fourth time or something else equally ridiculous.”

“Knowing my luck, it’s fifty-fifty,” Komaeda smiled.

Hinata let out a strangled noise, as if he’d switched personalities. _“Don’t jinx it--”_

“Thanks, Kiibo-kun,” Komaeda beamed, taking the USB from his palm and setting it on the floor.

And then he smashed it, stomping mercilessly on the USB until it was completely crushed and mangled and until Komaeda himself was a panting, sweaty mess.

“How did you do that,” Kiibo’s mouth fell open. “With just your boots?”_ He looks so sickly! Stepping on flash drives can destroy them, but this is--_

“I’m just lucky,” Komaeda chuckled. “Hajime-kun, would you get me a glass of water?”

Hinata raised a brow, too tired to even protest. “Like, actual water? Or from the ocean?”

“Mhm. Regular water.”

Hinata did so. 

“Revenge, as they say,” Komaeda lifted up the clump of metal that used to be Enoshima Junko’s AI between his thumb and forefinger, then dropped it into the glass of water. “Is sweet.”

Kiibo could only stare.

“There we are,” Komaeda smiled, pleased as punch as he held the glass in his hand. “I’m glad you’re dead, Enoshima Junko.”

=

Naegi, Kirigiri, and Togami arrived a few hours later with more supplies and a long-term medical team, and were caught up to speed with the story a few more hours after that. Komaeda had left on the boat they came on, citing his luck as ‘a possible bad influence to their recovery’. The others had gone to sleep to recover some more; Saihara, Shirogane, and Hinata stayed awake to fill in details. All three listened attentively, though Naegi had the most emotional responses. 

“I’m glad you’re awake, Saihara-kun,” Kirigiri smiled at him, and a thrill went up Saihara’s spine at the praise. She patted him on the shoulder. “You did well.”

“Thank you, senpai,” he smiled back.

“At any rate,” Togami finally sighed, getting up, “that sounds just like her. Actually going through with an experiment in someone’s mind...” 

“Poor Amami-kun…” Naegi murmured, looking mournfully at the boy’s pod. “I’ll leave it to him to tell you what happened in our game for the time being, but… he really went through a lot.”

“He panicked, I’m assuming,” Kirigiri pursed her lips. “He eventually came to trust us, but when the circumstances changed in the next game, his instincts reset to doing everything on his own.”

“I… I had a question, if you don’t mind,” Saihara finally asked. “For you, Naegi-san.”

“Just this one, okay?” Naegi smiled. “You should go to sleep afterwards.”

Saihara nodded. “It’s… been bothering me for a while, actually.” _I hope this isn’t too much to ask of him..._

“Yes?” Naegi tilted his head.

“Enoshima…” Saihara sucked in a breath. “In our final trial, Enoshima said something like,_ ‘it doesn’t matter that Makoto killed me in the end’_.”

Naegi froze.

Saihara winced. _Crap, I should’ve known that would strike a nerve--!_ “Just-- What… What happened, exactly?”

“Ahh…” Naegi’s eyes were wide. “That…”

Togami slapped his hands on both of Naegi’s shoulders, startling the latter back into reality. “It’s bullshit. Enoshima was a liar and Naegi didn’t even touch her, much less murder her. She just liked to get reactions out of people.”

It wasn’t the whole truth. Saihara could tell. Yet somewhere in Togami’s voice, Saihara detected a faint hostility-- a warning tone telling him not to press the question. 

“Sorry for asking something so sensitive,” Saihara apologized. “But thank you for answering.”

“Sure,” Naegi smiled, though it was somewhat forced. “Anytime, Saihara-kun. I’ll go to some of the other rooms for a bit… sorry.”

All eyes were on Naegi as he left. Togami let out a sigh once he was out of the room. “Detectives just have zero tact, don’t they?” he sneered.

Saihara flushed; Kirigiri rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t realize you fancied yourself for a detective,” Kirigiri quipped, unperturbed. She turned to Saihara. “I’ll fill you and your classmates in later. Just not in front of Makoto,” she murmured. “He still blames himself somewhat even though it was her own fault she died.”

“Relatable,” Shirogane whispered, then slapped a hand over her mouth.

Saihara could only gape at her, half sad, half resigned._ I… should probably say or do something comforting, right…?_

A beat too long; the moment passed.

“When the time comes, we’ll be ready to hear it,” he said to Kirigiri instead.

=

“When will the others wake up?” Ouma asked, irritated.

“Quit yer whinin’, it’s hardly been a day,” Momota retorted.

“Boys, stop arguing, I’m trying to take your blood pressures,” the EMT pleaded.

=

“In other words,” Yumeno yawned, “all sixteen of us have to stay on this island until the medical people say we’re okay to go travel back to Japan.”

“Basically,” Tsumiki Mikan confirmed, filing through the papers on her clipboard. “They’ll be doing physicals for everyone and mental checkups. I’d give less than a week for your classmates to wake up and about a full month after the last person wakes up at minimum before you’re all allowed back.”

_She’s very good at what she does, _Shirogane thought absentmindedly. _As expected of the Ultimate Nurse…_

“So… about Ultimate Despair…” Harukawa asked awkwardly.

Tsumiki flinched. 

“Ah… they’ve more or less been taken care of,” Naegi beamed. “People who considered themselves part of Ultimate Despair are either in therapy, arrested, or…”

“Or dead,” Tsumiki nodded, sighing. “The medical industry’s been having a boom with mental healthcare in particular…”

“Yeah…” Naegi looked a bit regretful. “Apparently the riots and massacres were really bad, but it was mostly contained within Japan because Future Foundation sort of. Took over the government’s response? The internet spread the ideology around here and there, but pretty much every country managed to quash it before it could gain too much traction--”

“Wait,” Shirogane blinked, confused. “Wait. What about the entire world being destroyed beyond repair and turning into Enoshima’s lackeys post-apocalypse?” Yumeno and Harukawa nodded fervently by her side.

Tsumiki and Naegi shared a look. Tsumiki then sighed and rubbed her temple; Naegi groaned and hung his head back, defeated. “She lied to you guys about that too, huh?”

=

Two days slowly shifted into three. The hours dragged painfully slowly.

The seven of them plus their upperclassmen and the medical staff slowly got into a routine. Saihara and his fellow survivors watched and waited for their friends to wake up in between their daily activities. Some interactions went smoothly, others more awkwardly. But that was to be expected.

It was uncharted territory, different from their lives at the Ultimate Academy. They all knew even before escaping the simulation that recovery wouldn’t be easy, especially once all sixteen of them actually woke up and were brought up to date on the events of the game and of the real world.

“Do we even know what order they’ll wake up in?” Saihara asked at lunchtime. 

Tsumiki thought carefully as she chewed, then answered after swallowing. “Anyone who died knowing about the simulation will probably wake up first, but after that…” she tapered off.

“It’s up to the level of pain they experienced at death,” Hinata finished bluntly. “The more severe the pain or shock, and depending on if they were fully conscious or not, the later they’ll wake up because of how their brains are processing it, or something like that.”

_It’s hard to judge, but… those who were executed will probably wake up later… _Saihara thought of Kaede first, and his heart clenched.

(Ouma brushed their hands together under the table, and Saihara’s tension melted away.)

_Still… anyone who died **knowing** will wake up first, hm? Good to know._

The seven survivors glanced up at each other through their meals, all thinking the same thing.

They continued eating. 

The past was right there, too close to exactly be behind them. But it was okay. They were only just starting on their new beginning.

No matter how uncertain parts of them felt, they had hope.

=

And the morning of the fourth day, that hope manifested in the form of bright, lime green eyelashes fluttering open within their pod.

=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart hurts a little :'x These kids have grown so much since when I first started writing them... And even I feel like I've come far as a writer. Everything feels painful and beautiful all at once.
> 
> The final chapter will the the epilogue! Look forward to it <3
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! If you're interested in making theories or chitchatting, check the fic summary for the invite link to this AU's series discord server. Otherwise, you can throw me a message on tumblr or twitter! I'm @/khattikeri on both platforms. I also recently made an instagram, so if you'd like to tag me in fanart there, absolutely go for it!
> 
> LINKS TO FANART!!!!!!!!! BC THIS FIC HAS THEM AND YALL SHOULD CHECK THEM OUT :'D
> 
> [1\. Section 3 fanart by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/189659362317/a-lil-fanart-for-section-3-of-khattikeris)   
[2\. Ouma's execution fanart by Kira @/celesteori](https://celesteori.tumblr.com/post/190110587652/so-see-the-entire-reason-i-have-this-personal-in)   
[3\. Ouma's execution fanart for Ouma Month 2020 by @/kzkanzaki](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBJp3_BgM-2/?igshid=1neoamod3x8ux)   
[4\. Amami's video + Saihara's flashbacks by Rhea @/cloudydoodle](https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/190850687652/lads-ive-gone-fucking-ham-today-heres-some)   
[5\. Ouma snaps (final trial) by Odii](https://twitter.com/odiiette/status/1269817009740681216)   
[6\. Final trial by Rhea @/kirukaes](https://kirukaes.tumblr.com/post/619205518684241920/fanart-of-the-latest-chapter-of-khattikeris)   
[7\. EKR!Tsumugi by Who @/assassination-murder-room](https://assassination-murder-room.tumblr.com/post/619404637315956736/)   
[8\. Junko's shoutout to Makoto by Who @/assassination-murder-room](https://assassination-murder-room.tumblr.com/post/623141650296897536/)


	53. Epilogue: To Our Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amends are made, though some with reluctance.
> 
> The road to recovery will be rocky, but…
> 
> ...at last, day breaks for their futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of idiot writes an epilogue that's 12k words long? That's right, this idiot. And if I didn't have a single iota of rational thought and restraint left in me I would've made it even longer.
> 
> There's a lot left of the aftermath, and this is really only a glimpse of it. <strike>This is also only the first part of the series, despite chronologically being second-to-last, so I hope to see everyone soon after this. I'll be taking a bit of a break to focus on school before writing and posting the next fic in the series, or even any other oneshots/multichapter ideas I get.</strike> **EDIT, 10/21/2020:** For various reasons, I will no longer be rewriting all of the Danganronpa games as a full series. Any other author's notes referencing a series beyond this point are older/from when I first posted the chapters; **it will not be happening.** Thank you all for your understanding. I hope you all continue to read, enjoy, love this fic for what it is. :')
> 
> My laptop broke and didn't start up again after I posted the previous double update. It's basically taken over a month to get it fixed and delivered back to me thanks to various personal (and political, fcking thanks @ GOP) issues. This coupled with the length of this final chapter is why it took so long, to anyone who is curious.
> 
> I started drafting and plotting out general aspects of this series in January 2019, then posted this fic in October of the same year. My plans changed a lot within the year and a half-ish after that beginning, but now I'm finally here. It feels surreal to see this fic be complete; it's been such a big part of my life. Thank you all so much for your readership, kudos, and comments. They mean everything to me. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the final chapter!

Amami Rantaro woke up remembering he’d been drugged.

...How much time had passed since then?

Blearily blinking his eyes open, he sat up. His clothes were sweaty and disheveled. Once his vision cleared, he realized he was sitting in an open pod.

(And then he remembered he’d been murdered.)

_Oh… It’s over._

“Don’t swarm him all at once,” a familiar, cross voice commanded. “Don’t-- _no,_ you fools, stay _back._ You can see him later. He only just woke up.”

Amami tried and failed to make his mouth less dry before speaking. “Togami...san...?”

“Yes, good morning, whatever,” Togami waved dismissively. He raised a brow. “You’ve created quite the scene for your classmates,” he motioned over towards the door. Seven of them-- Saihara, Ouma, Harukawa, Momota, Yumeno, Iidabashi, and Shirogane-- were watching him with rapt attention, all barely peeking in their heads.

Amami raised a hand in greeting and smiled sheepishly, like he'd been caught napping on a school rooftop and not waking up from a literal death simulator. "Hey, guys."

“Hey,” Shirogane’s smile looked strained. 

“Sup, Amami,” Momota nodded. “Glad you’re awake, dude.” 

“I told you brats to get out!” Togami thundered; all seven scattered, and Togami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Pains in the ass…”

“You’re not that much older than us,” Amami chuckled, coughing a bit.

“I have more authority regardless as a temporary employee of Future Foundation,” Togami sniffed. 

“He was worried about you, in other words,” Kirigiri flexed her hands beside him. Togami balked.

“I was--”

_“All _of us were worried,” Naegi interrupted before Togami could even think to salvage his own image. Naegi smiled, then reached out a hand. “But we’re glad you’re safe, Amami-kun. It’s good to see you.”

Amami stared.

_Naegi-san’s hands are the same as they were back then. Reaching, trusting, hoping, helping..._

Amami let out a quiet sigh, then smiled, taking Naegi’s hand and getting up. 

(The weight he’d been carrying seemed to dissipate all over again.)

“You don’t have blood on your hands, you know,” Amami murmured quietly, so only Naegi could hear. Naegi startled; Amami gripped a bit tighter. “I mean it. She was _wrong. _These hands of yours helped me, senpai. So please... don’t blame yourself for how that game ended.” 

Amami let go of Naegi’s hand, feeling a bit awkward. He never was good with heartfelt stuff; it felt too mushy and real.

Naegi looked awestruck, then beamed. “Bend down a little.”

“Hm?” Confused, Amami obeyed. 

Naegi proceeded to ruffle his hair. Amami yelped, jerking back up; Naegi laughed. “You and Togami-kun are both too tall for me, so I have to resort to this. You’re so caring, Amami-kun!”

“You have a good heart, even if your head’s jumbled up,” Kirigiri agreed. “We’re proud of you.”

It was a weird, childish feeling; from those words alone Amami suddenly felt a knot in his chest, wringing itself and keeping his throat from saying anything meaningful in response. He blinked at the ceiling.

Togami scrunched up his nose. “Oh, gross. Don’t cry, I’m not equipped for that.” 

“Pfft--” Amami laughed, and the tears in his eyes fell down anyway. 

“Thank you guys.”

=

After a long time, he finally ended up able to talk to Shirogane. Well, _cornering her_ might’ve been a more accurate term for it, but she seemed to be holding up surprisingly well.

“I murdered you,” Shirogane said plainly. 

Er. Sort of.

“You kept me safe and trusted me and treated me like a sister and a friend, and I returned the favor by bashing your skull in.” Shirogane sighed bitterly, eyes watery again. “I murdered almost _everyone_\--”

Amami pulled her in for a tight hug. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, and even though he was trembling, he bit his lip and smiled. “Not… Not completely. You did your best against despair. We all did.”

“Ha…” Shirogane returned the hug. “You’re too nice.” She paused. “It’s because you don’t _know, _isn’t it?”

“Know what?” Amami hummed back.

“I framed Akamatsu for your murder. She was completely innocent, but she got executed in my place.”

Amami stiffened. 

_What?_

“She died fully believing she was your killer, and so did everyone else up until the end, when they finally pieced it all together,” Shirogane continued, removing Amami’s slackened arms from around her and stepping back.

“You’re--” Amami bit his tongue to stop himself from saying _lying; _Shirogane didn’t sound like she was kidding, nor did she sound like she needed a lecture about why killing your friends was bad. 

He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t _want_ to believe that she’d done something as cruel as that. Killing him was one thing, but framing _someone else..._

“Why?” Amami finally said instead.

She shrugged, not quite nonchalant but far from overwhelmingly guilty. “It’s… a blur. I did what I did because of despair and Enoshima Junko, but it’s undeniable that I also had a role in it. I can’t blame it all on my being manipulated.”

“That’s…” Amami trailed off. “That’s true, but…”

“It felt violating,” Shirogane murmured. “Everyone being in my head, Enoshima twisting everything up, myself doing horrible things to people I cared about just for the sake of death and despair.” She let out a breath. "But regardless, there's no denying the role I had."

Certainly, Amami could attest to that. “I’ve seen enough of how she used to operate to know,” he sighed. “But for what it’s worth, Shirogane-san… I forgive you for what happened to me.”

Shirogane snapped her head up. “Huh?”

Amami held up a hand, stopping her. “I _am_ upset on Akamatsu-san’s behalf, and I can’t forgive you for that,” he clarified. “But… as for me. It's okay."

Shirogane’s expression soured. “Self-sacrificing idiot,” she grumbled. It faintly reminded him of his sister Rika. It sounded exactly like something she’d say. 

“What happened happened,” Amami shrugged. “All we can do now is make amends and move forward.” 

_My lack of temporary amnesia makes me a little biased, but… no matter what, I want the best for my classmates._

_I’ll help them recover as best as I can._

=

When Hoshi woke up, the only emotion he could describe himself having was relief.

Relief that he wasn’t dead.

Bad circumstances caught him in a moment of mental weakness. Everyone else was also alive, but aside from the initial survivors and Amami, he was the only one so far to wake up.

Harukawa came over and talked to him for a bit, then apologized for the motive videos. It didn’t matter to him. He lamented it, sure, but he didn’t blame Harukawa. Or even Toujo that much, now that he thought about it. 

“I should’ve heard you out,” Harukawa insisted.

“...If you’re gonna be that persistent, then I accept the apology,” Hoshi replied.

It was all… such a blur. 

He was sore about Shirogane, definitely. Hoshi was more than a little pissed at her; he had been_ right _all along. So was Yonaga. So was Shinguji. So was Iruma. So were_ a lot of them._

But like just about everything in the world, it was muddled. The line between his personal feelings and general good-or-bad was too damn blurry.

“None of us forgive her,” Harukawa said quietly, seeming to understand the look on his face. “It’s just easier for us to talk to her since we defeated Enoshima together.”

It felt like Harukawa had grown, much to Hoshi’s surprise. Much more than he had.

(With his own life having been cut short, though, it was understandable.)

“I don’t plan on talking to her for a while, much less forgiving her,” Hoshi sighed.

“...As long as dying isn’t involved in the equation, I’ll support you,” Harukawa finally resolved. “I’ll be there this time.” She turned to him, looking right at him. “So don’t give up, okay?”

Hoshi quirked the end of his lip up; a half-smile. “Alright.”

Even if it was complicated… it really was was good to be alive.

=

“You still have to confess to Momota, right?” Yumeno asked. “You made a deal with Saihara.”

Harukawa was beginning to wonder at what point she’d be allowed to smack Yumeno and have it not count as murder or assault. “I did,” Harukawa finally admitted. “But the timing never feels right.”

“A mere excuse,” Yumeno dismissed the thought. “Nyeh… Be more proactive! I’ll go find him and come with you!”

“Huh?!” Before Harukawa could even protest, Yumeno was already somehow dragging her off to where Momota was. “Wait, Yumeno!”

As if by fate, Momota bumped into them. Or at least, Harukawa knew instinctively that it was Momota, but he looked a little different. She couldn’t quite figure it out... 

“Oh, sorry,” Yumeno looked up at him sheepishly. “I was trying to find this one guy called Momota. He’s rather tall and has spiky brown hair and a goatee and a ridiculous fashion sense, surely you’ve met him--”

“What the hell, I _am_ Momota!” Momota groaned. “Yumeno, you need glasses.”

Yumeno pouted. “I thought that was our little inside joke.”

“I don’t look_ that_ different without all the hair dye and gel ‘n shit,” Momota tsked. “And that fashion sense wasn’t by choice, it was the only thing I had in that closet--”

“Maybe so, but the goatee was like a weird sorta trademark.” Yumeno looked smug all of a sudden. Momota’s ears turned pink.

“You shaved it off,” Harukawa at last realized. It had taken her a while to really get what looked different about him, but now that she understood, it made sense. 

Momota rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and-- _ah, he looks a lot younger like this-- _worried his lower lip. “I mean, I’m already in the astronaut program, ‘n they all know my actual age, so it’s not like I need it to sell how old I am,” he reasoned aloud. “Aside from that, I kept it ‘cause I figured it was trendy or made me look cooler, but…” 

_He’s cute when he rambles._ Harukawa smiled, raising a brow. “But?”

“I don’t need to be cool,” Momota finally said. “It’s fine for me to be myself and not be able to deal with everything…” He paused. “At least… That’s what I figured after being with you.”

It was then that Harukawa noticed that Yumeno wasn’t in the room anymore-- she’d left the two of them alone.

_Nice, Yumeno._

“Hey, Maki…” Momota began, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Can I hug you?” 

Harukawa swallowed, fingers itching and touch-starved. Automatically, she reached for one of her ponytails, wringing her hair. “Actually,” she said, throat feeling dryer by the second, “there’s something I wanted to say before that.”

“Hm? Go for it,” Momota grinned. 

_God, Shuichi’s gonna have a field day when he hears about this. Agh, wait, I shouldn’t think about him-- _

“Okay,” Harukawa squeaked. “So. Well.”

“Yes?” Momota prompted, still grinning like a loon.

_Makes me wanna kiss the stupid smirk off his face--!_

Throwing away all the possible things she could’ve said, Harukawa reached up to his face and yanked him down to do just that instead. Momota froze, eyes wide.

When Harukawa pulled away, she was somewhere between mortified and completely, utterly high on the feeling. “I-- sorry, I couldn’t think of the right-- agh, _fuck, how do people do this,_ I just--” She gave up, letting her hands slack to her sides. “I love you, Kaito,” she bit her lip, refusing to meet Momota’s gaze. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.”

Silence. Momota wasn’t saying anything. Slowly, Harukawa looked up.

Momota looked like he was one millisecond away from short-circuiting completely.

“Kaito?” Harukawa blinked._ His face is completely red…_

“Y-Yeah,” Momota jumped a bit, sounding faintly strangled. He laughed. “I…” His eyes lit up for a moment, bright like the stars, and he licked his lips. “Okay. After this, you have three seconds to slap me into the stratosphere.”

_Slap him? Why? _Harukawa knit her brows. “After wha--_ mm!”_

Momota was kissing her, one hand on her waist, the other gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before settling to hold her.

This was quite possibly one of the _best days of Harukawa’s life._

When Momota pulled away, Harukawa was left just as red as him. “One,” Momota immediately began to count, breathless. “Two.”

Harukawa couldn’t help it: she started laughing. “Stop counting, stupid,” her face split with a grin, fists clenching the jacket of his school uniform with the giddiness of a child. “I won’t slap you for something I also wanted.”

“I love you too,” Momota said, starstruck. He rubbed the back of his neck again, but didn’t avoid her gaze-- he looked right at her, as passionate as he was for the skies, like he would like to look at her forever. 

“...Does this mean we’re dating?” Harukawa asked tentatively.

“Yeah… Well, I want it to,” Momota admitted. “Do you?”

“I do,” Harukawa met his gaze head-on, and it felt like the world had stopped just for them, everything aligning just right and perfect. “Now kiss me again.”

When Momota did, hugging her close, Harukawa smiled against his lips.

=

God’s voice no longer whispered in her head. Yonaga Angie awoke.

Yumeno had practically bounced off the walls seeing her again; Angie wondered what her reaction would be when Chabashira woke up.

Right. Chabashira had also died. Angie pursed her lips. _Himiko must’ve been lonely for a while._

Learning about the truth only served to vindicate Angie’s more grand suspicions; God and her missing memories had informed her correctly about both Shirogane and about the virtual killing game. She hadn’t quite pieced all of it together, but it was good to know she had been on the right track.

It was just a shame that she had died before being able to help the others and prevent their deaths.

_Forgiveness is the key to a peaceful life,_ her faith whispered to her. Angie wasn’t about to go against its tenants. Looking at Shinguji in his pod, all she could feel was forgiveness.

“You must’ve gotten executed,” Angie murmured, running her fingertips along the glass lid of the pod and talking to Shinguji trapped below it, even though she knew fully well he could not hear her. “You didn’t deserve to be manipulated like that, Korekiyo. None of us did.”

Shinguji hadn’t been the same person. The golden eyes piercing the dark, the red lips puckered to blow out the candle, the animalistic bloodlust in every thudding footstep and swing of his arms-- it wasn’t quite ‘him’ who killed her. She had been knocked out before she died, so really, she didn’t feel the killing blow.

(Nonetheless, she was haunted by it.)

Angie ran her fingers along Chabashira’s pod, sitting right next to Shinguji’s. He had even killed Chabashira in the following seance. 

_How sad. Angie should’ve been able to fight back and prevent it… _She frowned, deeply disturbed by her own incompetence. _At least that way, Himiko would be alright, and Tenko wouldn’t have had to suffer._

Forgiving Shinguji for murdering her was one thing, but Angie had no right to forgive him for what happened to Chabashira. On the flip side, forgiving Shirogane, who had a hand in all of their deaths, would be… difficult. But Angie would do her best! She would come to terms and forgive. Regardless of some of its more violent blood rituals, Angie’s faith and god preached healing and peace; Angie therefore believed in those aspects of life.

She would forgive, but she would not forget.

(That just wasn’t in line with who she was.)

“You’ve matured, Kokichi,” Angie sing-songed suddenly. From the slight noise in the room, Angie surmised that he’d jumped a bit. 

“Nyahaha!” She giggled._ It’s always fun catching him off-guard. He’s good at sneaking around, but he really thinks too highly of his skills around Angie..._

“Me? Mature? You must have the wrong guy, Angie-chan,” Ouma skipped along, peering curiously. He paused. “Hmm~? What’s this? Why’re you looking at them?”

Angie got up from between Shinguji’s and Chabashira’s pods, brushing off her knees. “His hair is pretty,” she lied with a grin. 

“What a joke,” Ouma harrumphed, tossing his own curls to the side.

They were quiet.

“You were gonna tell me about the academy being virtual, weren’t you,” Ouma murmured. “Before you died.”

“God says that matters not any longer,” Angie said serenely. “In the end, things worked out, even without a council.”

“Yumeno’s ecstatic now that you’re back, it’s annoying,” Ouma yawned. “And Shuichi’s saying stupid things about love. He keeps trying to debauch me, Angie-chan! Little smooches or surprise hugs are nice, but we’re in_ public.”_ He lit up with a grin. “Hey, hey, I know!Help me file a restraining order while I call my organization to take him out!”

“Aww, you silly billy,” Angie grinned merrily, poking his cheek. “That should be the other way around! Don’t forget how you straddled him just to look at his eyelashes at the Insect Meet and Greet.”

Ouma blew a raspberry at her, but Angie didn’t miss the faint pink over his ears. “That’s just how boys are, stuuuupid!”

It was funny, now that Angie thought about it. The mental image of Ouma scrambling away from Saihara’s more public affections after everything that had happened between them-- that too, despite how clearly smitten Ouma had been when he thought it was one-sided-- reminded her of a cat.

_I thought Himiko was like a kitten, but now I think Kokichi’s also just as much of one._

The image died as Angie noticed Ouma walking over to two other pods, running his fingers along the top the same way she had been doing with Shinguji’s and Chabashira’s earlier.

_Gonta’s and Miu’s…_

“You have grown, in your own way,” Angie smiled thinly. “Himiko, too.” 

Ouma dropped the act, leaving his face expressionless but still staring at Gonta and Iruma through their pods. “Are you alright, Angie-chan?”

“Tenko and Miu might feel the same way when they wake up,” Angie surmised. “But I know Ryoma and Rantaro definitely feel the way I do right now. Like we’re struggling to catch up, in a way.”

Ouma stayed quiet, then furrowed his brows. “Angie--”

“Ryoooomaaaaa!” Angie yelled suddenly, getting up to leave. “Play tennis with me on the beach! Please please please!”

“Stop yelling!” Hoshi yelled back from the next room. It didn’t matter. No matter how much he grumbled and complained, Hoshi would join her on the beach and play tennis without fail.

Angie turned around, peering back at Ouma from the doorway. “Therapy and communication aside, what we need most to heal is time.”

“You sure that’s all?” Ouma raised a brow. 

“Angie will be fine,” Angie beamed, grabbing a tennis racket and feeling a grin upon her face at the mere thought of playing in the sun.

“I have you, Himiko, and everyone else with me, after all.”

=

Yumeno was not proud to admit how much she cried seeing Angie wake up, but it was fact. When Chabashira woke up, however, Yumeno broke her own record for crying and stammering.

“Nyeh… I’m sorry, a-and I love you, and also--”

“Slow down, Yumeno,” Harukawa sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’ll make her short-circuit.”

“Oh,” Yumeno blinked. Chabashira indeed looked like she couldn’t believe her ears. Bewildered and excited both at once.

“Someone pinch me,” Chabashira whispered.

Yumeno opted for a long, squeezing hug instead.

=

After learning how the seance had really played out, Chabashira couldn’t help but feel something odd in her heart. ‘Resentment’ might’ve been the right word for it, but Chabashira was never really the best with words. Feelings were more up her alley, right along with actions. 

She didn’t forgive Shinguji. She_ couldn’t, _not even after knowing that he had been manipulated by Shirogane. Not with how painful it was… 

Chabashira remembered the feeling of blood pooling in her mouth as she had died, that horrific feeling of knowing you’re dying but being unable to call out to anyone. Bleeding out, and then everything fading to black…

“I wanted to thank you both for lying to her,” is how she phrased it when thanking Saihara and Harukawa later at night, after she finally managed to get alone with them. “It spared her the pain of knowing how I actually… you know,” Chabashira trailed off.

Harukawa and Saihara exchanged wary glances; Chabashira winced. She probably came off more bitter than she actually felt. 

“I don’t intend to tell Himiko… Not yet, anyway,” Chabashira sighed. “Not anytime soon. So please don’t tell her.”

“Got it,” Harukawa nodded.

Silence. 

“Well, that’s that,” Chabashira laughed awkwardly. “Thank you both for helping me though, before and after I died. Good luck on everything else, I wish you three the best!”

“Three?” Saihara looked perplexed. 

“You, Harukawa-san, and Momota,” Chabashira blinked. “You three are dating, right?”

“What?!” Harukawa turned bright red. Saihara choked, doubling over in what Chabashira quickly realized was laughter. 

“What,” Chabashira stared flatly. “You three were together often! You knew each other’s habits and talked and did exercise together and even all started calling each other by first name!”

“As _friends,”_ Saihara wiped a tear from his eyes, biting his lip. “Maki and Kaito are dating now, though.”

“Don’t look so smug,” Harukawa hissed, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. “You laughed at me the whole time even though you and Ouma were just as emotionally warped--”

“Wait,” Chabashira interrupted. “You,” she pointed at Saihara. “And_ Ouma?”_

It was Saihara’s turn to look a bit red in the face. “Mm,” he nodded, smiling bashfully.

_Disgusting._

The thought must’ve shown on Chabashira’s face, because Saihara made a face. _“Hey.”_

“Hey yourself,” Chabashira yawned. “I’m going to go catch up with Momota and talk to Himiko some more before bed.” She waved to both of them as she left. “I wish you both the best with your respective partners then.”

“You too, Chabashira-san,” Saihara smiled.

Chabashira smiled back. “Thank you both. I mean it!”

=

The hospital-esque setting made Iruma nearly forget just what she had woken up from.

For a brief, horrific moment, Iruma thought it had all been a coma-induced dream-- Hope’s Peak, the Tragedy, the killing game, _everything. _Another car accident, maybe. She nearly dissolved into an anxiety attack.

And then Iidabashi came in to calm her down. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Kiibo hiccuped, continuing to sob onto her shoulder. 

_For someone meant to be comforting me, you sure do get emotional quick… _Iruma patted his back, still trying to come down from the euphoria of being alive. “Crybaby,” she muttered.

“I missed you,” Kiibo blinked back his tears and sniffled. He was an ugly crier. Iidabashi always had been. “You’re alive. It wasn’t a coma.”

“It was different from a coma,” Iruma breathed deeply. “For me, anyway.”

Kiibo slowly explained to her all that had happened. She was pissed at Shirogane, no doubt, but the dream-like manipulation on Enoshima’s part resonated with Iruma more than she was willing to admit. 

_Despair,_ Iruma rationalized, _is like a coma of its own._

It’d probably take some time before Iruma could really forgive her. If at all, anyway. But she didn’t want to think about that right now.

“Whaddaya mean, _Saihara pretended to be the mastermind?” _Iruma demanded instead. 

Kiibo looked somewhere between amused and flustered. “You were wrong that he was the mastermind, but for some reason, all the stuff you’d hypothesized about him were things he claimed while he was pretending. That he was acting and that he was taught by his parents and all that.”

The more mature side of Iruma suggested apologizing to Saihara. The more childish and therefore more in-control side of Iruma instead decided to cackle in his face whenever she saw him again. 

“Hey,” Kiibo said softly. “Thank you.”

Iruma cocked up a brow. “For what?”

“For…” Kiibo fidgeted. “For what you said. About the rockets, and about not sacrificing myself.”

“Pfft…” Iruma scoffed, pinching Kiibo in the side and delighting in the way he squirmed. “That was your choice.”

“You constituted about 80% of my impulse control,” Kiibo said flatly. “And all your inventions helped us eventually escape.”

“Damn right I was important,” Iruma cackled. “You guys were hella fuckin’ lost without me, I bet.”

=

Kiibo just couldn’t stop staring at Iruma. She was beautiful. She was _here, _alive.

“I love you, Miu,” he whispered.

Iruma looked surprised when he held her hand and kissed her forehead. “W-What’s with that pussy move?!” she stuttered. “Kiss me on the mouth, dammi--”

Kiibo did.

“Ah,” Iruma’s face greatly resembled a malfunctioning firetruck. “Oh.”

“Get better first,” Kiibo chided, equally flushed. “At least, get evaluated by the medical staff.” He stood up, at last leaving her to the doctors’ care. “I’ll be back with bunny-shaped apples from the kitchen.”

They had all the time in the world to talk after that.

=

Gonta had managed to meet with everyone after waking up. Those present at the fourth trial had quite a bit to say; Momota in particular spent quite a while talking to him. Those who were awake but not there chatted with him as well, minus Iruma.

However, it took a while for Gonta to catch up to Ouma. Namely because his best friend was so good at running and hiding. The other boy had even taken to using Saihara as a shield. 

Gonta couldn’t remember the last time he felt so irritated, or sad, or tired. 

“Gonta can still see you, Ouma-kun,” Gonta frowned. He sighed. “He told you before, didn’t he? Gonta doesn’t blame you for anything. Ouma-kun did do bad things, but Gonta’s choice was his own.”

Ouma fidgeted. Saihara somehow managed to pry Ouma off of him and set him down. “Talk it out,” he scolded. His face softened. “I’ll be here when you’re done. Don’t run away.”

He pressed a kiss to Ouma’s cheek and quickly left.

Gonta thought of commenting on it, but decided not to. _Ouma-kun is more private than he acts, so he might get upset if I bring it up..._

Ouma avoided Gonta’s gaze regardless. “You should’ve teased me there,” he said quietly. “You’re always thinking of others, Gonta. Always playing the gentleman. You do it so much that you don’t even value yourself.”

Now that just didn’t make sense. “Gonta could say the same about you, Ouma-kun,” Gonta furrowed his brows. “You care so much about others that you don’t even think about how bad you might look if you take the blame.”

Ouma scoffed. “You’re still like this! You still--” he sucked in a breath, then put his hands over his face, covering his expression entirely.

Gonta was confused at first, but then the salty smell of tears hit his nostrils.

“Ouma-kun,” Gonta’s eyes widened. He immediately came forward, gently placing a hand on Ouma’s shoulder and trying to wipe the other boy’s tears. “Ouma-kun, please don’t cry--”

“I got executed after you,” Ouma’s voice was watery and pathetic; no matter how hard he tried pushing the tears away with the fabric of his sleeves, more kept coming. “But I managed to survive, and even now I feel like I shouldn’t have.” He pushed Gonta’s hands away. “Don’t, I’ve got it. Fuck. I’m a little out of it.”

There was a word for this, Gonta recalled faintly. Back in Kamukura’s laboratory, when their class had all hid together, Akamatsu and Shirogane had taught it to him.

‘Survivor’s guilt.’

Gonta ignored the strange twist in his gut at remembering Shirogane, at the time they spent together, and how oddly betrayed he felt upon learning she had been lying throughout the game. It was a mixed feeling, and he wanted to forgive, but it was too much information for the moment…

Ouma clicked his tongue, trying to wipe his own tears again, and Gonta felt the beginnings of tears in his own eyes as well. “It’s okay,” he smiled, a bit wobbly. “Gonta forgives you for everything, and accepts what happened to himself.”

The things that had stung and poisoned him to the point of pus and blood were merely robots, after all. Gonta could tell from the beginning, and he refused to let it destroy his passion for insects.

He was strong. He knew that now.

(It still hurt to remember.)

“I’m gonna hug you, you self-deprecating lug,” Ouma snarled, sniffing loudly. “Get ready.”

Gonta got ready. Ouma hugged him.

“Don’t make this about me,” Ouma muttered into his chest. “This is about you. Got it? You are strong. You’re loyal. And kind. More kind than me, I still don’t get why you think I’m super kind.”

Gonta couldn’t let that slide. “Ouma-kun, you’re--”

“SHH! Shh! Psh! Quiet! This is Ouma Kokichi Complimenting Gokuhara Gonta hours,” Ouma scolded. “No interruptions or my organization steals all the lenses from each and every single one of your pairs of glasses.”

Gonta sighed. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry for a lot of things,” Ouma continued. “For manipulating you, definitely. But also for not really lifting you up when it was clear that you weren’t doing great.” He looked up at Gonta. “You’re plenty talented and smart.”

“This is weird,” Gonta squirmed a bit, skin feeling hot. “You’re Gonta’s best friend, but this complimenting thing is_ really_ weird to Gonta…”

“After all the effort I put in,” Ouma twisted his mouth. “Really?” 

“Sorry--”

“Sarcasm, sarcasm.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not a big deal,” Ouma smiled quietly, averting his gaze. 

Gonta couldn’t help but stare. Ouma really had changed. “This honest Ouma-kun is because of Saihara-kun, isn’t it?”

Ouma stared at him for a long time. Then, he punched Gonta’s chest. The blows felt like little more than a butterfly’s wings flapping against his skin, but Ouma was panting by the time he finished, so he must’ve exerted quite a bit of effort, contrary to Gonta’s belief. “Somehow, it’s especially annoying hearing that from you--!”

Gonta laughed. It was the first time in a while, but he laughed. Not once did he think about being useful, nor did he worry about seeming friendly and gentleman-like.

Their friendship would be fine.

(Funnily enough, he felt free.)

=

Shinguji felt hot. Overheating, burning, boiling…

“That hypersensitivity is likely to stay with him for a while,” one of the doctors overhead murmured.

And then he gasped, shooting up awake.

It was ugly. Not just himself, but his shouting-- the medical staff had to subdue him a bit before he accidentally stressed himself out to near-death with how ready he was to attack Shirogane and go down screaming. Even after learning about how it was Enoshima Junko, and about what happened in the rest of the game, it didn’t stop the bitter, acrid feeling blossoming within him.

_Ugly, unsightly, unseemly..._

Shinguji couldn’t remember how much time had passed in between all the one-on-one visits. In Hoshi’s case, he had learned, it was the same; everything felt like a blur. The only thing that helped him keep track of the days going by was the routine of fixing his hair every morning. Braids and ponytails felt more comfortable and cool than keeping it open.

(It felt less hot on his neck that way.)

However, one discussion between Angie and Chabashira at nighttime stood out to him. He had been having trouble falling asleep, and ended up listening in on the conversation.

Happy to see Yumeno’s growth, happy to see the others before them alive, happy to see each other despite their previous antagonism. The chitchat was quiet, but exploded with an outburst from Chabashira: 

_“How can you possibly forgive him for killing us?!”_

Instantly, Shinguji’s senses were on alert. He strained a bit, moving out of bed and pressing his ear to the wall to hear better.

“That’s how Angie’s faith works, Tenko. She actually saw him change because of that flashback light. It was different from how he really is. And she doesn’t forgive him for what he did to you; that’s between you and him alone. Angie forgives him for killing her.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still responsible for murder!”

“Don’t you think Angie knows that?! It’s stressful for her too! All that running, the panic, with nobody to hear her--!”

“You didn’t _feel_ it! Not the way I did, alone under that cage and people on the other side, but not being able to say a single thing with all that blood in my throat--!”

Chabashira was cut off; Shinguji was now in a crawling position, pressing half his body up against the wall and limiting his breathing to shallow catches between each thick slice of tension. A moment later, he could hear the unmistakable noise of crying; which girl was comforting the other, he couldn’t tell.

“Himiko’s gone and grown without us,” Chabashira sniffled. “And I’m proud of her, and I wanted to see her change for the better, but after dying, I just feel like I’ve been left behind--”

Angie’s voice was also muted; a far cry from the cheer Shinguji was used to hearing. “Angie feels the same. Angie feels… like she should be there, and support everyone’s recovery, but even with God guiding me it’s so _lonely_...”

“I hate you,” Chabashira practically wailed. “You’re so annoying, but you’re so _nice, _Angie-san. I care about you too, you annoying, annoying, annoying--”

“Is that the only word you know, Tenko? God suggests Angie get you a dictionary--”

“You’re a girl, but I”ll aikido flip you so far even Momota’ll see you when he’s in space!”

And like that, they were laughing soon, and Shinguji found himself falling back into bed with a thud, mulling over what he’d just gone and overheard.

He dragged his hands over his face, then let out a frustrated groan.

“I can’t just go up to them and apologize like nothing happened…”

=

Ouma was avoiding her, and Iruma was fine with it. 

Iruma told Gonta straight up that she was scared of him and Ouma and to not talk to her for a while. Gonta understood. That was that. She wasn’t about to beat around the bush. She never said anything to Ouma, but the little prick must’ve been around when she had talked to Gonta, because she hardly saw him around.

Ouma did leave little notes and stuff every now and then, just to make sure she didn’t think he fell off the face of the earth. Allegedly. But Iruma didn’t care for apologies.

It was difficult, Iruma realized. She found herself constantly checking behind her shoulder. Really, hindsight made it more obvious how wrong she was and why those two did what they did, but it didn’t shake that paranoid feeling that it would happen again. 

_It’s scary is all. I get it, but… it’s scary._

“Care to have company?” 

Iruma looked up and saw someone she wasn’t expecting.

“Knock yerself out,” she waved Shinguji aside.

=

Shinguji sat quietly next to her for a bit before attempting conversation.

There weren’t that many people he could talk honestly with. He recalled the few times he and Iruma had talked and decided someone with interesting views on life and death would be a suitable companion for the moment. 

While he was still stuck in this uncomfortable in-between mood. While he felt shaky and unstable, like he felt he might slip up and relapse into an anxiety attack from merely feeling heat…

(It’d be a long time before he or any of the rest of them felt ‘okay’.)

“Living is good,” Iruma sighed. “I ain’t gonna deny that. I’m_ glad_ I’m alive. This is my second ‘second chance’. The world just couldn’t afford to lose a genius girl inventor like me.” She paused. “But it feels weird to live after seeing death.”

Shinguji twiddled his thumbs, immersed in the visual back-and-forth. “Death and decay are merely extant forms of life,” he said airily.

“Dying still hurts,” Iruma muttered. She sighed. “Hurt like a bitch.”

Shinguji pursed his lips. Perhaps the reason he never really liked Iruma all that much was because she was so direct to the point. Shinguji rather liked being an observer amidst action, all hypotheticals and tie-ins over the stabbing pain of personal experience. Naturally it was fun to see things for oneself, but he enjoyed poring over textbooks and asking others for their examples and experiences most.

The world and its people were beautiful to him. The way life and death worked, the innate fear and anguish of humanity alongside its joys-- he, as the Ultimate Anthropologist, loved it all.

(But only now did it hit Shinguji that he himself, his thoughts and values and experiences, were also just as much a part of the humanity he loved so much.)

“I know,” Shinguji sighed. “I know it does.”

Iruma tsked. “‘s not just that.” 

“It’s that feeling that you’ve missed out on something,” Shinguji wagered a guess. “Am I correct?”

For all Shinguji’s study of human culture and humanity, it was hard for him to believe that people would be able to make the best of a situation such as the Tragedy, or even merely the killing games. It was a fresh wound and a dried up one all at the same time.

“Car accidents, comas, shit like that,” Iruma clicked her tongue. “That was already bad. Going back to people I already knew when there’s a gap between the time I died and the time we meet up again… Feels worse knowing there’s shit they experienced I can never understand.”

“Mmh,” Shinguji agreed. “I understand that feeling well…”

“Feels like I’ve been out so long, there’s only weeds growin’ out all around me,” Iruma murmured. 

The opportunity for a terrible joke presented itself. Shinguji paused, then snorted. “Weed? That’s illegal in post-war Japan.”

Iruma gaped at him, then shoved his shoulder, letting out a guffaw. “Fuckin’ stoner ass--”

“I had to, I’m sorry,” Shinguji laughed with her, his whole frame shaking.

“Don’t be,” Iruma wheezed. “Aw, fuck, I can’t breathe, the fuck’ve you done now--”

At that, Shinguji only laughed harder.

(Maybe they’d be okay after all.)

=

Toujo woke up screaming.

“Toujo.” Two hands gripped hers, pulling her up and pulling her closer. “You’re alive. It’s okay. Toujo--”

She was sweaty, her eyes couldn’t handle the light--

And then her vision cleared.

“To...gami...sama…?”

“So you can at least recognize your employer,” Togami murmured under his breath. “Good. Now hold onto me,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “Once you get up and get checked by the doctors, we’ll explain everything.”

=

The last thing Toujo expected was for Hoshi to try to talk to her again.

Grappling with guilt, with the knowledge that she had blood on her hands, was one thing. Talking directly to the person she had killed was another.

“We both had our faults,” Hoshi explained, fixating on the candy cigarette in his mouth (that he no doubt tried to hide from the medical staff). “I used you by ordering you to kill me, you used me by taking advantage of my suicidal thoughts to try ‘n escape. We both died because of it. We’re both alive now.”

Toujo blinked. “Are you not… upset with me?”

Hoshi blinked back. “What for? Not talking me out of it? I had that conversation with Harukawa already.”

“I don’t know,” Toujo admitted. There was a strange itch within her to move away from the medical area that had been set up and start working, but everyone refused to let her. Kirigiri had offered her several Rubik’s cubes to fidget with in the meantime, but she’d already completed them. “There’s a lot to process.”

Hoshi twisted his mouth. “Yeah...” 

Toujo averted her gaze. _It’s awkward..._

Hoshi sighed. “Well, I’m still bitter, if that means anything to you. I don’t forgive Shirogane, for one, but I’m not gonna hold too much against you since I basically told you to do it.”

Toujo flinched.

_‘Nobody who's totally okay with dying would struggle at the last second.’_

_‘Hoshi wanted to live. As depressed as he was, he wanted to live.’_

_‘You killed him and stole his life for your own selfish purposes.’_

Ouma’s words had a way of piercing one’s emotions both in life and in death. Perhaps he was a suitable Supreme Leader after all.

Toujo folded her arms in front of her. “I wouldn’t use our goals coincidentally aligning as a reason to absolve yourself of any resentment towards me,” she said carefully. “Rather, it would make more sense for you to hate me as much as you do Shirogane-san.”

Hoshi only shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m not as mad at you as everyone thinks I should be.”

Toujo stared at him, then scoffed. “How ridiculous.”

For some odd reason, Hoshi began to stare at her. Then, he snorted. “At least you’re expressing yourself more.”

Toujo got up, then turned around. “I’m going to see if I can help with anything.”

Hoshi raised a brow. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“The more I rest, the more restless I feel,” Toujo explained, wringing her hands. 

“Weird,” Hoshi quipped.

“I find it more strange that people actually enjoy lounging about,” Toujo furrowed her brows.

“Nah, you’re right,” Hoshi shook his head. “I get antsy when ‘m not playing tennis either, I just can’t imagine people liking housework.”

“The repetitive motions are calming,” Toujo mused aloud. “So much so that you can think amidst the busywork.”

Hoshi stopped in his tracks.

“Hoshi-kun?” Toujo turned around expectantly.

“Are you alright?” Hoshi asked. His face was blank, but there was weight behind the words, tension pulling the edges of his mouth down.

“...” Toujo looked away. “There’s a difference between those who lived and those who died.”

Toujo hadn’t been awake for long, but she had already seen enough. She’d seen Amami, Yonaga, and Iruma getting startled when people walked up behind them. She’d seen Chabashira avoid bending over, choosing to grab things with her toes or sit all the way down to reach for things fallen to the floor. She’d seen Shinguji secretly waking up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, to turn the thermostat down several degrees. She’d seen Gonta fidgeting nervously around the medical staff and excusing himself when they brought out needles.

It was different from the relief and ease with which the survivors moved and talked amongst each other. And even the survivors had noticed how awkward it all was; their mannerisms and vocal tone changing when met with anyone who died within the simulation; their interactions dying away and being saved for ‘later’...

“Yeah,” Hoshi’s voice, calm and yet upset both at once, snapped Toujo out of her reverie. “No, yeah. I get what you mean.”

“I do feel as though things will get better,” Toujo clarified. “It’s just that as we are now, with everything still so fresh…”

_It’ll take time._

=

When Akamatsu Kaede finally woke up, the last of them all, it was like a chapter of their lives had closed. 

“We’re destroying these,” Hinata said simply, gesturing at the pods and supercomputer. “It’s technology Enoshima stole, and frankly, if she could use it for cruel shit like this, it’s better that even Future Foundation doesn’t get it back.”

Kiibo and Iruma looked a little dismayed, as if the tech would’ve been better as tools to be engineered by their own hands, but nodded. 

Nobody really felt a sense of loss when the machinery was actually destroyed. Rather, it was liberating.

Akamatsu herself was still mulling over what she’d just experienced, walking around the underground Future Foundation building, when she was suddenly shoved by a blurry force. The contact was like a whirlwind knocking her over, and if Akamatsu didn't know better, she'd have thought that it was someone like Ouma trying to attack her with a tight hug.

(But even undead girls know the difference between purple and blue.)

"Saihara-kun?" Akamatsu asked incredulously. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pried him away from herself to get a better look at his face. "Saihara-kun--"

_Oh._

Saihara's face was botched with tears, nose and cheeks a ruddy red color. He sniffled. "You're finally awake," Saihara choked up. "You're really here, Kaede..."

A small voice in the back of her brain startled at the first-name basis, but she ignored it and smiled. "Hey," she said softly, wiping his tears away with her thumbs, "How are you gonna fill me in on whatever's going on here if you're crying like that?"

Saihara let out something like a mix of a snorting laugh and a sob.

They were quiet for a moment, reveling in silence (save for Saihara's sniffling, but that wasn't important); Akamatsu took the chance to really look over him. It'd been so, _so_ long. Saihara had changed. He looked more weathered down somehow, more mature than the rookie detective she first met. Still a bit sentimental at heart, but far stronger in spirit.

"You--" Akamatsu paused, grinning. She ruffled Saihara's hair. "You look different without your hat."

Saihara blinked in surprise, reaching to smoothen out his hair before smiling fondly at her. "Yeah," he admitted. "I took your advice to heart."

"It suits you," she praised.

Saihara looked positively radiant. "Thank you," he whispered.

=

The euphoria of reunion died when Akamatsu found out the truth.

_I was framed._

_I was… framed?_

Saihara, Amami, and Shirogane confronted her as a team; it was probably something they’d been mulling over for a while considering how nervous all of them looked, but Akamatsu couldn’t handle it. Eyes wide, she ran away from all three of them, refusing to look any of them in the eye.

Even processing it was--

_You thought Shirogane was a good girl. You wanted to be like her._

_You thought you were a murderer, but you did nothing wrong._

_You were framed._

Before Akamatsu knew it, she was lost in the building, crying too much to even be able to see. She’d settled in a corner, burying her face in her knees until someone gently tapped her shoulder.

“I thought you might be here,” Toujo said quietly. “Would you like to join me?”

Akamatsu blubbered.

“Myself, Shinguji-kun, and Gokuhara-kun,” Toujo clarified. “We’re going to have a chat in one of the other rooms. I was on my way there bringing tea.”

Akamatsu nodded, sniffling.

“Wipe your tears,” Toujo murmured, giving her a handkerchief. 

Akamatsu obeyed. “Thank you…”

Toujo pressed her lips together, sympathetic. “...It was painful, wasn’t it.” 

It didn’t matter whether Toujo meant the execution itself or Akamatsu learning she’d been framed.

Both were true.

“I feel bad,” Akamatsu sneezed, wiping away her snot with the handkerchief as they walked. “Those three might be looking for me…”

Toujo furrowed her brows. “Three?”

“Saihara-kun, Amami-kun, and Shirogane-san.”

“Ah…” Toujo grimaced. “I think they’ll understand that you need space.”

Akamatsu was dubious. It was precisely_ because_ they cared that they wouldn’t want her to feel bad, so they might pursue her to check over her. She didn’t like the idea of receiving that kind of pity.

“For a class representative, I’ve turned awfully pathetic,” Akamatsu murmured. 

“You’re plenty strong,” Toujo turned to her. “In the past, I wouldn’t have told you so directly, but… I don’t care for appearances as much now that I’ve died.”

Akamatsu blinked, a little taken off guard. Toujo had seemed different, but only when the girl herself had explained why did Akamatsu fully understand.

“We don’t view you as pathetic, Akamatsu-san,” Toujo said sincerely. She turned back around. “We’re here.”

“Thanks.” Akamatsu’s face hurt, but she smiled nonetheless. “Thank you, Toujo-san.”

Shinguji and Gonta were already in the room. The four of them sat quietly; then, the topic of what had happened after Akamatsu died up until Gonta’s execution came up-- embarrassingly, Akamatsu had run away before Saihara or anyone else could’ve explained the rest of that to her.

“So that’s… how it went,” Akamatsu clenched her jaw, forcing her mouth to stay closed despite how much her body trembled. 

It was horrific. Nothing else could describe it.

“If I may, I was curious to know…” Toujo bit her lip, then looked down. “Do any of you feel… nervous when talking to Saihara-kun?” 

Silence.

“...I do,” Shinguji finally said quietly. “It’s not quite the same as _fear, _but my pulse seems to pick up when he raises his voice.” He let out a soft air of breath from his nostrils, too delicate to be a scoff but carrying over a similar enough feeling. “Not that he does that very often, mind. It’s like my mind and body are sensitive to everything.”

Toujo let out a small sigh of relief. “I thought I was the only one…”

Gonta scratched his cheek. “Saihara-kun never yelled at Gonta the way he did with both of you, but… it is scary when he gets loud or angry. With Momota-kun especially... The fourth trial was...” he trailed off with a grimace. “Not good.” 

“That sums it up well, I think,” Akamatsu absentmindedly tapped her fingers on her arm. “I’m not really _scared_ the way you two are.... I goaded him into arguing with me that first trial, after all, so that was on me. But he and I came to the conclusions we arrived at specifically because of--!”

Akamatsu cut herself off. The look on her face must’ve been bad, because Gonta offered her his uniform jacket. 

She accepted it, but it wasn’t enough to put her at ease.

“It’s not fair,” Akamatsu whispered. Tears stung her vision. “She perfectly covered it up by using me as a scapegoat. It hurt so much, it was so drawn out-- I _died.” _Her voice cracked.“But because of Enoshima Junko, it’s like... I can’t even be mad. I want to be mad, but I’m not, but I _am _at the same time, it’s so confusing…!”

The other three exchanged wary glances. “You do have a right to be angry, Akamatsu-san,” Toujo said carefully.

“What you suffered is on a different scale entirely,” Shinguji toyed with his hair, mildly uncomfortable. 

“That’s the problem,” Akamatsu whispered, suddenly feeling cold both inside and out. She drew the ends of Gonta’s jacket further around her. “It’s so different and distant that I feel like I can’t catch up with all the things I lost.”

She was resentful. There was no avoiding it. Shirogane framing her, herself being strangled and dying-- of course Akamatsu couldn’t forgive it. Of _course_ it hurt. Of course there was a small part of her that wished, even a little bit, that things had gone differently, or that her killer would have suffered for hurting her this way.

“Let’s go to the beach,” Gonta suggested.

Shinguji gave him a strange look. Toujo pursed her lips.

“The others are there,” Gonta elaborated. “Gonta talked with Ouma-kun earlier. Gonta already cleared things up before his own execution, but he did it again after waking up. If you want to see the others and clear up everything… You should talk, Akamatsu-san. That’s what Gonta thinks…”

The tension in Akamatsu’s shoulders slackened. She stood up.

“It’s a good idea,” she said. “I think… I think I might need to do that.”

=

Shirogane realized as soon as all four of the blackened came to the beach, joining everyone else, that things wouldn’t go well.

But they all needed this closure. She had been anticipating it, long since accepting the consequences.

It was different with Amami, who hadn’t once had amnesia. It was different with Shinguji, who had been manipulated into murdering with his own mentally twisted will. It was different with Hoshi and Toujo, who had taken the videos to heart. It was different with Gonta, whose entire case had been something Shirogane kept mostly away from.

_My actions impacted everyone, but Akamatsu must be hurting in an entirely different way._

Shirogane bit her lip. 

_Here’s hoping it’ll end alright._

=

With every passing word, with every slight uptick in volume and emotion in their voices, Saihara remembered the words that Akamatsu had said to him from within the Love Hotel.

_Catharsis… That emotional release that you finally get after ages and ages of buildup._

Akamatsu was physically alright, but Saihara knew she’d be shaken up. He knew that technically, nothing he could say would help. Saihara knew it. He knew it, but he couldn’t quite understand her feelings the way she and the others who had died could--

=

“Of course you wouldn’t get it, Saihara-kun!” Akamatsu yelled, unable to contain her grief anymore. “Because you actually _survived!”_

And the tension between all sixteen of them finally broke.

Akamatsu didn’t regret saying it, but she immediately dabbed her wrists over her eyes. “Sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry, I--”

“No,” Saihara said faintly. “There’s no need for you to be.” He walked over and squeezed her hand, the same comfort she’d given him right before the first class trial, and--

Akamatsu’s vision went blurry with tears again.

_I’m being comforted._

“I did you a disservice, idolizing you the way I did,” Saihara’s brow was raised, expression distant and lamenting. He looked her in the eye. “You’re more than a leader, Kaede. You’re more than just someone we looked up to as a class rep. You’re human. It’s natural to feel the way you do.”

“The seven of you have it much different than the nine of us,” Angie twirled the tennis racket in the sand.

Toujo fidgeted with her hands. “And even amongst us nine, it’s most different for Akamatsu-san.” 

Amami sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a given, but that sort of alienation is…”

“When you’re close enough to still be connected, but distant to the point that you can’t relate to the same stuff,” Hoshi huffed. 

“It’s... a weird feeling,” Chabashira shifted in discomfort.

“Being executed in particular,” Shinguji turned away. “It’s not something we can forget.”

Saihara let go of Akamatsu’s hand.

“And in my case,” Akamatsu gathered up as much breath and courage as she could, then turned to Shirogane. “It’s not something I can forgive, either. Never.”

Her gaze was bitter, but Shirogane held it all the same.

“I understand,” Shirogane said. 

The pain didn’t melt away immediately, contrary to the fairy tale-like expectations Akamatsu had held. But for the moment, the wave of resentment within her receded.

_As long as we’re all on the path of making up for what we did and moving forward… Maybe time will heal us._

=

When Shinguji at last acted upon his resolve and apologized face-to-face to Chabashira and Angie, Chabashira didn’t say outright whether or not she accepted his apology. 

But Shinguji did find himself getting more and more used to Chabashira, Angie, and Himiko doing his hair, or absentmindedly working on their physical retraining while he told them folktales and other cultural anecdotes.

=

Iruma was still uncomfortable being touched, but she and Gonta slowly got used to writing each other small notes, later letting Ouma and Kiibo in on the conversations. Whether about insects or machines, they talked and listened to each other, and all four of them added to the conversation, sharing whispers and secrets and jokes alike.

=

Toujo wasn’t sure if she could be permitted to have Hoshi’s back, metaphorically or literally. But then the two of them plus Momota and Harukawa got into the habit of challenging each other with doubles tennis, and with their coordination would usually beat the latter pair.

After that, high-fiving Hoshi felt like the most natural thing in the world.

=

Akamatsu initially vowed not to say a single word to Shirogane the whole time the two of them plus Amami and Saihara got together to do each other’s nails.

But when she let an expletive slip after knocking over a bottle on Shirogane’s skirt, then let two more swears go by because she swore and said words to Shirogane, all four of them ended up laughing, and the pain in their hearts grew all the more faded.

=

Things went smoother after that catharsis. Slowly, Class 79-A opened up more to each other again.

Progress was progress, no matter how slow. It wasn’t linear. Nightmares, anxiety attacks, PTSD… relapse was inevitable, but it wasn’t a destructive ending force.

Their bond as a class and as friends may have undergone pressure-- it even may have broken. But it would rebuild, little by little. 

Their future, in time, would shape up.

=

And when that time came, they were more than ready.

“It’s been a while since the first of you woke up,” Tsumiki began. “M-Many weeks, but… I think… You’ve all gotten better. Better enough to go back to the mainland, at least.”

“Yeah, that explains the boats,” Chabashira muttered. Yumeno giggled beside her, leaning into Chabashira’s touch.

They were all standing on the docks by the beach. 

“Everyone has their own mental issues to work on, naturally, but we believe you’ve recovered enough that you can go back to Japan and see your families again,” Togami sniffed disdainfully. “If you want to, that is.”

“Of course we’d want to!” Akamatsu exclaimed. 

“She’s right,” Saihara smiled, amused. “I think we’re all in agreement… that we’d like to move on from here.”

“Great!” Naegi beamed. “There are two boats, so we’ll split you into two groups.”

Even as Naegi explained who was going onto which boat, Saihara couldn’t believe his ears. His heart was doing strange flips in his chest; the new environment felt like it was moving too fast. 

So much had happened. So much was _going_ to happen. It didn’t feel real, but it was. 

(Somehow, knowing that made it that much better.)

“It’s all been covered with the government,” Kirigiri continued smoothly. “And your families were notified earlier, so once you all board, everything will be set.” She turned around. “Are you all ready?”

“Gonta thinks so,” Gonta looked back at everyone else, then took his own initiative, boarding first. “We’re ready.”

Everyone followed, talking amongst themselves, 

Returning home… even if they were going back, things were bound to have changed. Their destination from there on out would be uncertain. The weight they’d all carry from this killing game… would have a lasting impact.

But no matter how uncertain, it would be alright. It would be okay, in the end. Now that it was over, they had the time and freedom to heal. And after that, they’d each find their own ways to bloom.

“Back to society,” Momota’s eyes shone with awe. “To the real world…”

Ouma took a step ahead, then paused. He turned around and held out his hand, looking back at Saihara with an expectant yet fond gaze. “To our future.”

Saihara smiled, then laughed, shaking his head as he took Ouma’s hand and ran together with him to board the boat. 

=

The smell of the ocean breeze and the sensation of the boat rocking over the waves was more relieving to Amami than anything he’d experienced in nearly a year.

He breathed in the scent, reveling in it.

“How does it feel?” Amami nudged Shirogane, who was standing by the railing with him, looking back at the receding island. 

She was quiet at first. Then she whispered: “I’m glad.” Shirogane let out a quiet sigh, then leaned against the railing, chin on her folded arms, a contented smile on her face. 

“I’m glad I’m not dreaming anymore.”

=

The sixteen family reunions upon their return were interesting to observe. 

For some, Amami noticed, it was relatives-- blood family or adoptive parents; whatever was left of them after the Tragedy. For others, it was found family: mentors, friends, significant others...

He hadn’t known that Akamatsu had a twin, for one thing. Yumeno’s mentor was an attractive young man; he, Yumeno, Chabashira, and Chabashira’s mentor were all chatting. Hoshi’s long-distance girlfriend was holding his hands and weeping. Toujo, Yonaga, Iruma, Shinguji, and Shirogane were each with their respective parents or family members.

Amami took in the reunions with a bittersweet feeling in his heart. He knew his own sisters wouldn’t all have been found by the time he returned. When he saw Yukina there, waiting for him, he felt almost selfishly relieved. It was cruel, but it really was relieving to see that his adventuring to find his sisters hadn’t been as futile as his attempts to save his classmates and upperclassmen.

_You’re negative self-talking,_ he mentally chided himself. _Stop that._

“I’m happy you survived,” Yukina grinned at him. “It’s good to see you again, onii-chan.”

He hugged her, obviously. It had been so long…

Yukina laughed, patting him gently on the back. “There, there… Oh! Rika-nee’s here too. It’s kind of funny, she was the first one who managed to get back on her own, and then she rescued me--”

“Rika?” Amami was flabbergasted. He broke the hug and turned around, but couldn’t make out anyone looking like her in the crowd. “Where--”

“Here, stupid.”

He turned back around, and there she was.

Rika had her mouth tilted in a frown, bright green hair tied in two side ponytails as she impatiently tapped her foot. She sighed, then hugged him too. “It’s good to see you too, Ran-nii.”

Okay, something was _really_ wrong. Amami Rika was not _nearly_ this agreeable on an average day. Amami had half a mind to check if she had a fever, then decided against it. Rika didn’t like him as much as the others did, for starters-- of all twelve of his sisters, Rika was the only one who shared a mother with him, yet somehow, they’d get into disagreements (“arguments”, Rika insisted, which Amami refused to call them and which therefore started further disagreements) more often than Amami would with anyone else. 

“Daddy’s swamped with paperwork trying to find all the others even with the Tragedy clearing up, so we came to pick you up,” Rika waved a hand. “So don’t go thinking anything stupid like _‘wow, Rika came to pick me up of her own will and everything even though she hates my guts!’.”_

“That’s not true, onii-chan,” Yukina said innocently. “Rika-nee nearly prostrated herself on the floor in Father’s office insisting that both of us come to see you instead of him--”

Rika went red in the face._ “Yukina!”_

Amami stifled a laugh into his fist. _Maybe Rika does care after all._

Rika glared at him. “There he goes, Yukina, look! Now he’s thinking something dumb again!” She scowled at him, completely opposing her next words: “You do know I don’t actually hate you, right?”

“I’m just thinking of how much I missed you both,” Amami smiled. “It’s a little pathetic of me, since I couldn’t save anyone, but--”

“You’re a good big brother, onii-chan,” Yukina insisted, folding her arms. “So don’t say that about yourself. You put in the effort, even if you didn’t succeed. That’s more than enough.”

“Get it through your preppy one-track head that you’re a good person and we care about your well being,” Rika jabbed a finger at his chest. “Okay?”

Amami held up both hands in surrender. “Got it,” he chuckled.

_I missed them so much. I love you both so, so much..._

“Good!” Yukina beamed, taking him by one hand, Rika by the other, and dragging them both out. “Now let’s all go get our nails done. We have _so_ much to catch up on...”

=

_“My son,”_ Dr. Iidabashi repeated over and over in English, a broken record as he held Kiibo tighter than ever. _“My son, my son, my son…”_

(It was good to be whole again.)

Iidabashi Kiichiro smiled against his father’s chest. _“I missed you too, Dad.”_

=

Momota’s grandparents still had perfect, tight grips. Gramps still slapped him on the back like he was beating out a bedsheet; Gramma still pinched his cheeks like she had a personal vendetta against them. 

(And both of them hugged him like he’d slip away the moment they let go.)

“Good to see ya back, Kaito,” Gramps coughed, a little choked up. “I see ya ditched that purple nonsense hair dye--”

“Uh huh,” Momota grinned, giddy to see his grandparents no matter how vehemently they trashed his fashion choices.

“--an’ the goatee, gods in the sky know _that_ was a mess--”

“Dear,” Gramma frowned at him. “Youth do foolish things, you know that. Yer own grandfather nearly skinned ya ‘live seein’ that delinquent punk pompadour back in the 80s--”

“Style was better back ‘en,” Gramps insisted. “Not like all the frou-frou magazine garbage now.”

“You ‘n yer own father _both _nearly had strokes when Masayoshi started dressin’ like a dandy ‘n finally ran off with Miss Sora ‘n had Kaito,” Gramma wrinkled her nose. “Now keep quiet, ain’t nothin’ I hate more’n a hypocrite.”

Gramps scowled, but said nothing.

_“Kaito,” _Gramma ignored her husband, turning back to Momota and holding his cheek, eyes shimmering with pride. “You’ve grown so much. You survived through so much… You look just like your father.”

“‘Cept the eyes,” Gramps huffed softly. “Beautiful purple, just like your mother.”

“Naw, he has the same dimple on his cheek that Miss Sora had,” Gramma poked it thoughtfully. 

“Has a hardworkin’ streak like Masayoshi an’ a smart’ side like Miss Sora,” Gramps ruffled Momota’s hair, then put his hands on his hips. “Every child’s like their parents.”

“We don’t hafta keep talkin’ ‘bout me,” Momota laughed, a little embarrassed. _Grandparents always end up spouting stuff like this…_ “Really.”

“We do it because we’re proud of you, Kaito,” Gramma said gently.

It was then that Momota caught sight of Harukawa, standing alone. 

_Right… Maki’s an orphan. Her orphanage was taken down when we were at Hope’s Peak, so even then, there shouldn’t even be anyone for her to meet… but..._

“‘Scuse me, gimme a sec, I’ll be right back!” Momota called over his shoulder. His grandparents wouldn’t mind. Probably.

“Wha-- _Kaito!”_

Okay, probably not. He’d endure the lecture later.

“Kaito?” Harukawa raised a brow. “What about your grandparents?”

“You don’t have a family,” Momota caught his breath. 

“I do not,” Harukawa replied, bemused. “What about it?”

Momota held fast onto Harukawa’s wrist. “You should meet mine!”

“What?!” Harukawa flushed a bit. “N-No way, they haven’t seen you in ages, I shouldn’t interrupt--”

“I care about my family, but you’re the girl I love,” Momota dropped his voice down. “You don’t… _have to, _if you don’t wanna, but I want you three to meet at some point.” He smiled.

“I--” Harukawa bit her lip. _She’s so cute like that, pouting all red ‘n flustered…_”I do want a family.”

And _bam,_ his mind went straight to the gutter. “We’re only high schoolers,” Momota muttered. 

Harukawa socked him in the shoulder, hard. “Not like _that,_ stupid!” she hissed, face reddening even more than it already was. “I meant--”

“I know!” Momota laughed. “I know what you meant.”

Harukawa stared. 

“Eh-- Maki?” Momota blinked at her, still smiling.

“I want to kiss you so badly,” Harukawa’s voice strained.

“Huh?” Now it was Momota’s turn to flush red to the roots of his hair. “W-Wait a minute, everyone’s families are here, we_ really_ shouldn’t--” He cleared his throat, regaining his senses. “Anyway!”

“Anyway,” Harukawa repeated with a small huff, lips curling into a smile.

“Come with me?” Momota tilted his head back in the general direction he came from. “My grandparents are waitin’.”

“Mhm,” Harukawa walked with him-- not behind like a follower, but right by his side. “I’m here.”

Gramma was already waiting right where Momota had left her and Gramps, arms folded. “Momota Kaito, what in blue blazes were you--” Gramps elbowed her, and then she seemed to notice Harukawa’s presence. Her tone completely changed. “Why, who’s this?”

“Sorry ‘m late,” Momota laughed sheepishly.

Harukawa nudged him slightly, looking up at him. She seemed… almost a little nervous, despite the small smile on her face.

Momota smiled, taking her hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly. He turned to his grandparents again.

“There’s someone I want you two to meet.”

=

Ouma lurked about, watching everyone else’s reunions. Amami had been observing too until his own sisters came; then Ouma was left alone. He was like Harukawa, in a way: orphaned, without a family that would come to him.

_Well, I do have DICE, _he mused, _but they all have their adoptive families now, so they should be busy with school and whatever community reconstruction business their prefectures are up to..._

That was that, really. Ouma watched and told himself he enjoyed watching. The reunion got truly boring once Gonta had left with his human family; they had some prim and proper discussion and gave stiff hugs that probably felt like cardboard.

Ouma briefly entertained the thought of a cardboard family before a familiar, shrill voice pierced the air. “YOU!” 

Ouma whirled around and came nearly face to face with gingery brown hair tied decisively in a ponytail. His eyes widened. 

“Koto--_ oof!” _

Several people tackled him all at once; they all tumbled to the ground. “Hey, hey, easy--” Ouma laughed, coughing a little from the impact. _Holy shit, is that all nine of--_

“Kokichi,” Kotori sniffled. “Kokichi, you stupid,_ stupid--!”_

“What a rude greeting for your leader,” Ouma flicked her forehead, voice straining. “Being second in command doesn’t mean you get to forget manners, y’know!”

_How are you all here?_

“I’d throw a rotten orange in your face if I had one!” Kotori huffed, half-heartedly bringing fists down on his chest. She didn’t budge an inch. “Stupid big brother--”

“Nii-chaaaaaaaan!” Kouji and Kouta wailed from above them. 

“You’re alive…” Koharu cried, rubbing her eyes.

Kou tsked, but was equally as emotional. “You _moron, _some of us got scared!”

_No, more like..._

“Nuh-uh!” Kozue insisted. “DICE members don’t get scared, we just got-- um--”

“We waited loyally,” Kousuke finished her sentence, puffing out his chest.

“We aren’t DICE anymore, we disbanded once he started at Hope’s Peak,” Kosei sighed. “Not to mention all the adoption stuff--”

Kohei rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t change how freaked we got when--”

_Why are you all here?_

“Ah,” Kotori seemed to realize, “Guys, back off, we’re probably crushing him.”

It took a bit for all ten of them to untangle themselves and brush off their uniforms, but eventually they settled.

Ouma couldn’t help himself: he stared. He couldn’t believe all of them were really here in front of him.

He may have disbanded DICE. He may have negotiated with Kirigiri Jin and gotten them all good adoptive homes and educations in exchange for attending Hope’s Peak, with the intention to not see them as often after they become better adjusted. He may have panicked, manipulated, lied, broken DICE’s rules, and nearly died.

But over a year later, here he was. Here they _all_ were. 

(Funny how things ended up working out.)

“What’re you staring for?” Kou raised a brow. “Out with it!”

Ouma looked over each of them. “You guys got too tall while I was gone,” he smiled fondly. “Who allowed that?”

All nine of them clamored loudly, yelling and practically crying his name as they all dive-bombed him again.

Ouma laughed til there were tears in his eyes.

=

Saihara figured his parents wouldn’t be able to come, not with international flights to Japan still somewhat being in limbo-- but it didn’t matter.

His aunt and uncle were there for him, after all.

“Shuichi…” Saihara Sonomi sniffled, eyes red-rimmed and weepy as she squeezed him into a hug, holding his face and leaning up a bit to press chaste kisses to the crown of his head. “Oh, my child, you’re safe… You're _safe…"_

“Auntie,” Saihara smiled fondly and put a hand on her head, a little misty-eyed himself. He was taller than before; he’d grown to the point that Aunt Sonomi’s face could be buried completely in his shoulders.

“I told you not to cry, Sonomi,” Saihara Shuhei chided.

“Uncle…” Saihara’s eyes widened, then relaxed into a smile.

“Ridiculous,” Aunt Sonomi sniffed again. “Would you order the sakura blossoms not to fall in springtime?”

“I don’t want Shuichi getting worried over us is all,” Uncle Shuhei insisted, though his voice was thin. "Even if the house was lonely without him."

“It’s been a year, Uncle,” Saihara smiled, barely holding back a teasing giggle. “You’ve gotten white hairs.”

Uncle Shuhei bristled, then clicked his tongue as he ruffled Saihara’s hair without mercy, delighting in his nephew’s laughter. “Getting cocky now, are we? Boys will be boys.”

Saihara flushed.

Uncle Shuhei beamed fondly, pulling his wife and his nephew into a tight embrace before the latter could point out his watery eyes. “Shuichi...” he bit his lip, clearly holding back. 

The days when Saihara would cry into his pillow missing his family already grew more and more faint the further he sank into his aunt and uncle’s embrace. Saihara burrowed into the hug, the warmth of their skin more comforting to him than anything he’d experienced in months.

_It really is good to be where I belong again._

“Welcome back, Shuichi,” his uncle repeated softly, tearful as he stroked Saihara’s hair. 

“Mm,” Saihara smiled, content as he lifted his head.

“I’m home.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in the prologue, I opened this story by saying that I believed in happy endings.
> 
> Now that it's over, I can say from the bottom of my heart: thank you all for believing in their happy ending, too :')

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated! [my tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/)


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